


The Rickalaxy Trip

by Garcia



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Aliens, Ambiguous Age, Angry Sex, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Kinda, M/M, Self-Denial, Slightly Implied Rape/Prostitution, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:28:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24129727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garcia/pseuds/Garcia
Summary: Morty’s day starts as usual. Cereal for breakfast, a round of family fighting and a semi-drunk Rick by his side – regular, well-known, nothing out of the ordinary. Except Jerry freezes in the middle of it all and stays that way, Morty is beyond tired and doesn’t know why, Rick takes him to meet not so friendly friends and they still don’t have the money to pay for the FluffDuffleWaffles™ delivery.A trip around the galaxy to return Jerry to normal might prove more dangerous than at first thought, and Morty isn’t in his best state to deal with it all.
Relationships: Rick Sanchez/Morty Smith
Comments: 33
Kudos: 86





	1. Chapter 1

He was totally, irreversibly _fucked_ today.

Morty stared at his little sparkly cereal pieces floating in milk and tried to keep his eyes open, but to his tired dismay, his vision blurred, and he felt the spoon he held slowly slipping from his fingers, an inevitable crash at the end of its slippery journey. He knew he could tighten his fingers but that just felt like such a _chore_ and he had managed to keep his eyes open, hadn’t he? That must count for something, a show of his iron-will, his strength, a sign that he had, in fact, slept 8 hours last night, and he was clear-eyed and attentive and…

A harsh clatter met his ears and he blinked awake, staring at his spoon innocently lying on the table next to the bowl. With a muttered curse he picked it up and resumed his slow eating of soggy and mushy cereal.

Jerry sat down across from him, placing his own bowl of cereal, and snatched the tablet lying on the table. The sound of it turning on, the cheerful little sound effects, grated against his ears and transformed into an uncomfortable pulsing in his head. Goddammit, why did it have to be so unnecessary loud?

“Hey, sport, how’s it going?” Jerry’s cheerful voice replaced the sounds and Morty grimaced. _Why did they both have to be so unnecessary loud so early in the morning?_

“Good, good!” Jerry went on, “Did you know, I found a really cool game last night, ugh, Crash something, well, anyways, there are these goblin-warriors and helpers running around camp and I already raided, like, several other goblin-fests, and, get this, I even succeeded in one!” He started wildly swiping at the tablet. If Morty had the energy to open his mouth and form words, he would have said shut up, but, alas, Jerry continued, “And there’s this former classmate from high-school who I’m so close to beating, I only need—“

A loud thud sounded from the other end of the table as a plate with scrambled eggs and sausages was placed down, a glass of wine joining it. Starting early today. Morty felt his lips twist to a grimace and he concentrated on his cereal.

Beth sat down. “Shut up, Jerry.”

The man was opening his mouth when Summer walked in and sat down with her own plate next to their dad. “Get a job, Dad.”

“Well, let me just say that—“

“That what-what, Jerry?” Rick sat down next to Morty, a steaming mug of coffee joining their merry merry breakfast feast. His face was paler than usual, or maybe it was the deep bags under his eyes that created such an image, and his voice was a bit gruffer than usual. Morty though he could smell a bit of alcohol wafting from the coffee. Whatever reason for Grandpa Rick to stay up late had been, it had nothing to do with him, Morty had, for once, slept, so why did he feel so tired?

“How much did you spend already on the game? Ten dollars?” Rick asked, slurping at his coffee with a little smirk. Definitely spiked with something.

“I—“

“Twenty?”

“I did not—“

“Oh god, you actually spent twenty dollars on the game, didn’t you?”

Jerry stared at his tablet in silence, not willing to meet eyes with anyone. Small spots of pink appeared on his cheeks and he resolutely continued swiping at the tablet. Like Rick was to talk, what with his gambling problems and all-around lack of care with money. Morty would have snorted sarcastically if he, well, had the energy.

“You’re such a Jerry.”

Jerry’s hand, which had been swiping at the tablet a bit slower than before, jerked to the side and his untouched bowl with cereal flew back and off the table.

“Jerry! You complete idiot.” Beth downed the glass of wine and stood up. _Here we go again._ Morty sighed, continued to eat his cereal and wished he was somewhere, anywhere else. Maybe it was time for him to get to school, when his butt gets unstuck from the very comfortable chair. “It better be cleaned up when I come back from the conference. Bad enough I have to listen to some rich-snobs talking about horse surgery, like they know anything, but I also have to deal with your mess at home!”

“Beth!” Jerry whined.

“Yeah, Jerry, don’t you have any shame, leeching off of my daughter and wasting her hard-earned money?”

“I didn’t mean to…”

“Do I look like I—“

“It wasn’t my–”

“—care whether or not you meant it. You already wasted—“

“Beth!” Jerry’s voice came out unnaturally high and, despite his drooping eyes, Morty turned to look at him more carefully. Wild eyes looked back in panic.

“Jerry, I—“ Beth fell silent and Morty could see the moment she noticed Jerry’s pale face. It wasn’t the face of another ordinary breakfast fight, courtesy of Smith family, and even Rick lifted one side of his unibrow.

“I can’t feel my side, oh god, I can’t...“

Rick stood up, walked around the table and stopped, staring at something below the table. “That’s… interesting.”

Beth stood up and started to turn when she too was transfixed by something Morty couldn’t see. He stood up and went around the table. Near Jerry the fallen bowl was floating in air, milk and cereal scattered in the air near it.

Rick grabbed Jerry’s face, turning it this way and that, peering into his eyes. “Calm down, Jerry.”

“Calm, calm down?” Jerry squeaked. From where he was standing, Morty could see Jerry’s side, which the man was holding carefully, but it didn’t look like anything was wrong with it. Jerry continued to blabber and Morty could feel the beginnings of anxiety curling in his stomach.

“It feels so cold, what is happening, Rick?”

Rick grunted and poked him in the side non-too gently, but Jerry didn’t react, and Rick frowned. “Did you – bleugh- you go sneaking through my things? I told you to keep your ass away from there.”

“I didn’t, Rick! I swear, I—“

“Dad, what is wrong with Jerry?” Beth said and crossed her arms. “I have to go in ten minutes and I don’t want to be late.”

“Don’t worry—“

Rick had started comforting Beth when suddenly Jerry cried out, his face twisted into a grimace, and Morty startled, sleep all but forgotten, and twisted his t-shirt in his hands.

Jerry’s hands flew to his neck. “Oh god, oh god, oh god, I don’t want to die, I’ll start attending church, I swear, I, I will donate five, no, ten dollars! I’ll even stop stealing floral-smelling cream from Summer—“

“Hey!”

“—just please, oh god, don’t…”

Silence fell upon the room. Jerry’s face was still as stone and his mouth still open on an unspoken word, but no sound came through.

“I have to go, Dad. You sure you can handle it?” Beth said.

Rick placed a soothing hand on her forearm. “Of course, sweetie. You just go, don’t worry.”

A sigh left her lips, but she turned and walked away, disappearing from the dining room. Summer stood up from her chair and followed her, rapidly texting something to her friends.

“Wait, Mom, give me a lift to school!” She followed Beth and her voice trailed off.

Morty looked at Rick, but the man didn’t look worried and was in the process of unscrewing his flask.

“W-what happened to Jerry, Rick?” he asked, still looking at his dad.

“Bleaugh, d-don’t get your panties in a twist, Morty, I-I got this. Go to school, or something, dumb yourself, whatever, I don’t care.”

“Oh geez, R-Rick, you sure?”

Rick rolled his eyes and gestured with his flask in the general direction of the corridor, “Don’t be a dweeb, Morty, just go.”

Morty swallowed, looked at Jerry again and nodded. It didn’t seem like anyone else was concerned, so probably no need to worry for him either. Rick had this in control.

"O-okay, I-I'll just..." He gestured floppily in the direction of the corridor, "go…"

Morty slipped away from the room, grabbed his empty bag from the floor and exited the house, tiredness and sleepiness quickly and efficiently taking over his mind again. He sighed. There was no way he will be able to concentrate in school today. Why the fuck was he so tired?!

* * *

Morty peeled his eyelids open, trying to see past the blur at the blackboard, but the damned letters or numbers or whatever was there wasn’t cooperating and his eyelids slipped close once again. His head dipped forward, held only by his aching arms, the sound around him dimmed, and he relaxed, letting himself lay down on his desk. His arms, instead of holding his head, were pillowing it and the gentle, calm darkness around him was so soothing and comfortable, considering it was a desk he was practically stretched out on.

A few minutes of resting wouldn't hurt, would it? It was probably just some stupid irrelevant lesson. Yeah, he should just... Rest his eyes, so he would have more energy for real class, like algebra, or math, or numbers, or...

"Morty!" He startled awake, his eyes having trouble focusing, and Rick’s form swam into his focus slowly. He looked up and blinked groggily at his grandpa. Why was he here?

“Come on, Morty,” Rick said, illuminated by a green portal behind him before it sealed up. “We gotta – gotta go, man. I would leave you to your no doubt worthwhile education, but there’s – bleugh – there’s been a problem.”

Morty felt his heart pulse with the word ‘problem’, but nonetheless stood up.

Rick grabbed his arm, shot a portal and dragged him through. The garage filled his vision.

The idle from of Jerry, his body contorted the way it was when he was sitting in his chair, was propped against the wall.

“He looks like he’s trying to do yoga, but it’s not really working for him.” Morty said.

“Heh, would be more fun seeing him fall over.” A smirk stretched over Rick’s thin lips. “Listen, M-Morty, as much as I’m glad to be free for a few hours from Jerry’s annoying presence and his inability to fucking keep his fingers off my – bleugh – my things, I s-s-stumbled upon a problem. I was going to make Jerry give me his ‘emergency day’ money, but now I don’t k-know where it is and he’s so dumb I can’t suffer through thinking where he would hide it.”

Morty blinked, “What?”

“The m-money, Morty, do you know where he keeps it?”

“Y-y-you can’t do t-that!” he said, glaring at his grandpa.

Rick rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a dick, Morty.”

“Besides, where’s y-your money?”

"I spent it on a megaplasmic inverted pulse particle, that bad boy can blast right through the human skull on the lowest setting, Morty, and there are thirteen levels, Morty, that shit is lit."

Morty narrowed his eyes, "You spent it on alcohol again, didn’t you?”

"Uuugh..." Rick swatted him over the head, "Don't be an idiot. I could totally get it – bleugh – for cheaper." Rick sighed and took out his flask, twisting the cap in his hands. "I need it to pay for the FluffDuffleWaffles™.

“D-do you remember the FluffDuffleWaffles™, Morty, do you? That sweet sweet taste melting in your mouth, that softness that makes you feel like y-you’re on clouds, Morty.”

“The thick caramel syrup, d-dripping from the very top of the pile, so e-elegant, so magnificent, like a masterpiece…” Morty continued and saliva gathered in his mouth. He swallowed and felt his stomach grumble for the first time that day.

Rick hummed and stared into the distance, probably consumed by the memories of those damn magnificent waffles.

Morty sighed. “I’ll get you the money if you find out w-what’s wrong with Dad, Rick.”

“Ugh!” Rick spun on his wheel, strode to his desk and started pushing piles of things off it, searching for something. “You’re such a dweeb, Morty.” He took a deep gulp from his flask.

"You'll, you'll have to help me build a scanner. The last one broke while ---bleuagh – while we were harvesting the Werot flower and–"

"Y-you mean w-while I was h-h-har – while I was picking the flowers and a monster decided to eat me–"

"–and I haven't yet made another one," Rick finished, his eyes narrowed, and Morty sighed. He ignored his fluttering exhale and wiped his sweaty hands against his t-shirt. He felt a little clammy since that morning and hoped he wasn’t going down with some sort of sickness, or, god forbid, alien sickness. He shuddered as he remembered the last one he had to go through. That had not been… pleasant.

Rick started pulling out various tools from various places, despite the overall chaos of the place, “Don’t fuck – blaugh – fuck up again, M-Morty.” He took a deep gulp from his flask.

His arm twitched involuntary. "Yeah, yeah, it's just a scanner."

"It would be just a scanner if I had the right parts. But we-we don't have time so I'll just have to use the synthetic miscanthus dust rather than the—“

Rick was gesturing with his hands and Morty followed the movement. He was just so tired… He eyed the only chair by the desk. Should he sit down? His legs quivered and he gulped. It would be–

Rick sighted noisily and Morty jerked to look at him again.

“Just, I'll just have to use other means, more unstable ones than I usually do, so I need you to-to help me."

As Rick fell into his chair, the only chair, Morty swallowed and approached Rick’s desk. Rick’s slender fingers were grabbing bizarre looking objects and tools off his desk and Morty locked his knees. His eyes followed Rick’s slender fingers as he twisted cables, screwed in screws and connected wires.

* * *

“G-give me the wrench over there, Morty.” Rick gestured to the right, basically sweeping all over the garage and Morty sighed and stepped away, rubbing his eyes.

He cast a critical gaze over his grandpa’s shelf and grabbed the first wrench-looking tool. From all his experience helping Rick construct something, most of the time any tool would do and, if it didn’t, he would have more luck just picking tools randomly than go looking based on Rick’s stupid descriptions.

He held the tool in front of Rick’s face, but the man didn’t look up, and Morty had enough, he just wanted to go and find a place where he could be horizontal, so he bumped Rick on the head with a world-weary sigh.

“T-t-the fuck, Morty?!” Rick’s narrowed eyes glared at him, “Feisty today, a-a-aren’t we?”

Even though Rick’s words were harsh Morty could hear the unasked question behind it. “I’m f-fine. Just tired, so would you please hurry up, so I can go to bed already.”

Rick rubbed at his head and snatched the wrench away, Morty’s arm falling to hang by his side. “Absolutely no gratefulness in this-this household.”

A snort passed his lips. “Like you’re one to talk, Rick.”

The man leaned over the device again, resuming his work. “Whatever.” Slender fingers were screwing a tiny nail in with a screwdriver, his fingers steady on the tool, thumb absently rubbing against the yellow rubber.

Morty turned away and leaned against the desk again and his eyes fell shut on their own accord. It’s not like he had any hope that he would fall asleep on his feet, if only for a few moment of rest, and his fatigued muscles were happy to let him know that standing was not something they appreciated. The moment Rick was done, Morty would retreat to his room and his bed and not emerge until next morning. Who needed food when there was the promise of sleep?

“Shit!”

Morty jerked in his spot, almost falling over, before grabbing into the desk. Weary eyes blinked at the swimming device-in-progress in Rick’s hands. Oh god, the idea of sitting down had never felt more tempting than it did now. He rested his hip against the desk and blinked heavily.

“The fuck, Rick?” he said.

“I’m missing the frankz crystal. I forgot I sold the last one to some little shit a week ago.”

“And?”

Narrowed eyes glanced at him. “A-And? No crystal means no scanner.”

“Just find something else, Rick. I don’t have time for this.”

“What, gonna cut into your private-me time?” Rick sneered, and critical eyes swept over him. The flask once again reappeared in Rick’s hands. “Nothing I can do then. I have no fucking idea what’s wrong with the dipshit, but at least it’s not contagious. I think.”

“Y-y-y-you think?! Rick, fix him or something!”

“Don’t – bleugh – don’t worry, Morty, I got this. I’ll just activate robot Jerry when Beth gets home and I’m sure Jerry will just, just… stand up or something, if only to a-annoy me further.” He shook his flask with a critical eye and a drop of liquid resonated from the bottle. “Now, will you give me Jerry’s money?”

“W-w-what? Of course not!” Morty spun on his heel and walked towards the exit, “You didn’t fix him, y-y-you don’t get the money.”

“Oh, come on! I’ll turn you into space dust for that.”

Morty rolled his eyes, “You turn me into dust and you’re not seeing that money, Rick,” and continued his trek to his bed. Finally, he could lie down again. Maybe, when Mom returned, she would give him something for this headache he was starting to develop.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I kinda fell out of writing, but the next chapter should be posted by the next Thursday. Thanks for reading and I hope you leave a comment!

“Hey, Morty.” Cute little lips curled his way and pink eyes blinked. She popped her pink bubble gum, twirled a lock of blond hair around her finger and Morty gulped, tried to lean more firmly against the lockers, just in case his legs gave out. Pink eyes moved nearer, she loomed over him, her breath was tickling his lips and his skin tingled everywhere she was touching.

“Morty!” Rick’s voice reached him from down the hall, where Morty could see him standing near a green portal, hands crossed. “Come on, how long am I-I-I supposed to be waiting here?”

Slender fingers gripped his chin and turned his face to look back at pink eyes. “Morty…” she breathed out and his legs quivered under him. Couldn’t Rick see he was busy here?!

He hesitantly placed his hands around her, palms exploring her slim back, trailing lower and meeting with bare skin where her shirt rode up.

_“Morty!”_

His palms slipped under her shirt and red lips leaned closer, brushing against his ears, shivers running down his body from the single point where her lips touched his skin. His heart thudded in his rib cage and he swallowed, in vain trying to alleviate his dry mouth.

“Morty…” she whispered, “aren’t you tired of being such a loser?”

He froze and the skin under his palms turned cold, ice cold.

“When will you accept the fact that you’re nothing, Morty?” her whispers nailed him to the lockers behind his back and the word ‘Morty’ sounded suspiciously like Rick’s voice. His heart started even a faster beat and cold sweat broke on his skin.

“You’re _nothing_ , Morty…”

“ _Morty!_ ” He took a deep breath, startled, and looked at… Rick’s form looming over him in the darkness.

“Morty, wake up, goddammit, I don’t have time for this.”

The headache behind his eyes was killing him and he felt as if he was bathing in sweat despite the chills he felt all over his body.

“W-we have a problem, Morty,” Rick said and started to grab his discarded clothes from the floor, “I-I found Beth and Summer in the same state as dipshit,” a shirt hit his head, “but for now I left them where I – bleugh – I found them,” pants joined the shirt on his bed, “get dressed, we need to get going.”

He forced his aching arms into the t-shirt and with great reluctance moved it over his head. “W-w-w-where, Rick?”

“I have an idea for now.” He took a deep gulp from his flask. Glad to see it refilled, he felt his lips thinning. “Either way, we need to get this done or I don’t get the money for the shipment, for the Waffles, Morty, and they won’t, they’re quite mean bastards, Morty, they won’t wait forever. T-t-to think Waffle deliver guys would be so rough…”

The door banged open and Rick strode out. “Come on!”

* * *

Morty opened the ship’s door, swiped a few empty booze bottles off the chair, clatters filling the garage as the bottles connected with the unforgiving cement of the garage’s floor, and climbed onto his seat, while Rick went through a similar process, if the clunks were any indication. He thought a few bottles broke, and he winced, but Rick only climbed into the ship and started up the engine.

“Come on, close the fucking door.”

Morty slammed the door shut and wiped his sweaty brow, choosing to rest his aching eyes. It felt as if every single spot on his body was in some form of mild pain or discomfort.

In a few minutes they were already flying through space.

“Where a-are we going, Rick?”

“To see a friend.”

“Friend?”

“Yeah, he’s a collector of all sorts of stuff, Morty, I’m sure he’ll have the crystal.”

His mouth felt dry and he licked his lips.

“Besides, he has some other wicked shit stored and I was planning to eventually take a look.” Usually Rick’s ‘take a look’ meant creating problems to somehow get his hands on useless shit for free, disregarding everyone around him. “Those things just sit on his shelf, gathering dust.” Rick’s junk-filled garage flashed across Morty’s eyes, “and it just seems like a, like a waste to me, you know, Morty?” His grandpa shook his head and Morty rolled his eyes behind closed eyelids.

His grandpa’s voice floated around his head as Rick droned on, rubbish to his ears but strangely soothing. His mind felt almost empty, a few stray thoughts flying by, his heart slowing down. He didn’t know how long he was floating in such a half-sleep state before Rick grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him awake for the second time that day.

“Wha—“ He rubbed at his groggy eyes, slowly blinking around.

“We’re here,” Rick informed him, already opening his door and stepping out.

Morty hurried after him, his hands fumbling with the door’s handle before he staggered to his feet. The grass under his sneakers was violet and when he looked up, the whole planet had a pink tone to it, like it was once a white shirt but accidentally got thrown into the washer together with a bunch of uniforms of a cheerleader squad. Pink lips and a cold voice flashed against his eyes, making his chest ache in an unpleasant way.

He rubbed at his eyes again and shut the door behind him, trailing after Rick. They wandered through pink-colored streets. Around them the building were small but closely shoved together, in old brick and with clear windows. Most of the sidewalk was cluttered by small café outdoor seating or shop advertising, while the upper floors looked like they were private apartments. The streets weren’t particularly crowded, but most everyone they walked past were also tinted in pink. In form they looked rather humanoid, but their skin was various shades of bubblegum pink and their clothes a variation in that same color.

However, there were also quite a number of different looking aliens, so Morty assumed the planet was known on a galactic scale.

A few minutes of brisk walking later, Rick dived into a street corner and a huge dark-violet house took up Morty’s whole view. It was more of a mansion than house, truly.

Various green vines were creeping up the tall house and carefully clipped bushes lined the perimeter. The colors of the mansion and its greenery horribly clashed with the rest of the world, like it was carefully clipped out of a different universe and unceremoniously plopped down between the pink… everything.

Rick stepped up to the heavy looking front door and banged against it forcefully, making Morty wince – the pulsing behind his forehead had lessened compared to the way it was before leaving Earth but it wasn’t completely gone.

Nothing happened and Morty looked around cautiously. He really didn’t want to get into any trouble which would result in him either running for his life or fighting for it. The way life was going for him, he would trip over his own legs and get impaled on a discarded plastic fork.

“Maybe no-one’s home—“

Bang, bang, bang.

Rick banged against the door again, his face twisted into a scowl. He kicked the door, just in case banging threateningly didn’t work and Morty was seriously tempted to turn away and walk back to the ship. His eyelids still felt heavy and the pulsing headache only got meaner with Rick’s loud behavior.

He frowned, “Could y-you not do it, Rick? My—“

The doors suddenly swung open, revealing a chubby humanoid green… thing behind it. It reminded him of goblins, if goblins were suddenly a lot fatter and had less wrinkles. It was like a blob of slime or snot, with little beady eyes and his body mushed into clothing. The green of his – and he assumed it was male, considering his humanoid features and clothing, but one couldn’t really know – was as horribly matched with the world as his mansion.

Rick stepped into the house and the trembling alien jumped out of his way, though his face was twisted into a grimace of disgust rather than fear, and Morty tiptoed after Rick. They entered a spacious living room, with a multitude of differently-sized pots lining the walls, various greenery growing from them. The inside walls were also covered in vines and leaves.

Rick sprawled on the first couch-looking piece of furniture Morty could see. He went to sit next to him and the alien with great reluctance took the armchair opposite them. If not for the brown leather, the glob alien would’ve melted against the green walls.

“Nice to see you again, you little shit. You, you do remember our agreement, I hope?” Rick arched one side of his unibrow and the man opposite them twitched.

“O-of course,” the man said and his voice squeaked half-way through.

“I encountered a strange phenomena,” Rick frowned, “and none of my devices know shit.”

The goblin-like alien’s chubby shoulders seemed to wobble a bit and reminded Morty of a jelly like substance.

“What are the symptoms?”

His grandpa seemed to sprawl out even wider, his leg bumped against Morty’s and he could feel a flutter starting up in his heart. The point of contact was… warm.

Rick took out his flask, unscrewed it. “They seem to gradually become – blaugh – become immobile.”

The alien leaned forward, his green eyes taking a disturbing shine. He asked Rick a few other questions, like if their skin changed color or texture, and a few questions about things Morty never heard before – some sort of T lymph-something count and rays? - at which Rick snorted and shook his head. Morty decided to rather look around himself instead of trying to understand some jumbo words. He feared he would fall asleep if he didn’t occupy himself somehow.

Excluding their couch, the armchair the alien was sitting in, and the coffee table between them, he couldn't see any other piece of furniture. His eyes followed the plants and vines entwined all over the walls again. The vines trailed right over the ceiling, too, and every branch and leaf looked identical. Was it all from a single plant? He couldn't find the beginning nor the ending of it and the vases housing various plants seemed to be independent from the massive vines.

He craned his neck to the right, trying to see past the arc opening of the room, his eyes trailing after the vines, which extended even out of the room.

Warmth gripped his leg and he looked down to see Rick’s hand gripping his thigh. Their conversation flowed back to his attention, but he had already missed so much of it that nothing made sense anymore and he focused on clearing the receding headache through sheer willpower.

“Well, where’s your little boy’s room?”

The alien frowned, his lips pulling back in what seemed like disgust, “My what? You must know I do not have children!” His gaze flickered to Morty before jumping back to Rick, “They are–“

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” Rick waved his hand in a flickering motion. “Where’s your bathroom, dipshit?”

The alien relaxed slightly, but the frown was still firmly etched into his face. “It’s down the hall, the second doors to the right. You have already been here, though.”

Rick snorted and stood up. “Like I don’t have better things to do than remember where your s-s-shit-throne is. Come on, Morty, l-let’s go.”

Morty looked up at his grandpa with what he hoped was a judging look. “Y-you don’t need me to use the toilet, Rick.”

Rick’s eyes flashed dangerously, and Morty sighed, standing up. “Lead the way”.

* * *

Various guns gleamed on the walls they were mounted to, knives with dangerous looking runes and symbols etched into were proudly on display behind crystal clear glass and Morty could even see some weird capsules and other little trinkets scattered on the shelves in the room. To say the room looked menacing would have been an underestimate.

“R-Rick, I don’t think we should be h-here,” he trailed after his grandpa’s confident stride.

Rick snorted. “When has that ever - that ever stopped me, Morty? Besides, don’t w-worry, this guy is a major asshole. Don’t touch anything, though, this is not what we came here for.”

“Came for… Rick, I thought we were supposed to be saving our family, n-not slink around s-some guy’s private rooms!”

Rick stopped in front of an empty wall, trailing his palms along the smooth surface of it. “That’s besides the point. I’ll need you to carry some shit for me, I can’t be bothered to do it all on my own.” His fingers stopped at a seemingly random spot, but after a few seconds the place he was touching sunk into the wall, revealing a pad, which was blinking for a password. Rick didn’t waste time and quickly inputted something and it… worked. The wall they were facing slid open, revealing a narrow passage. A cold draft ghosted over them and Morty shivered.

“For fuck’s sake, Rick…”

Rick strode on and Morty followed him, curiosity licking at him despite his annoyance with the man.

As he walked down the corridor, he trailed his hands against the walls. After a few long strides the room they were in was practically pitch dark and Morty could barely make out the white of Rick’s coat in front of him. The sound of their breathing was too loud in the oppressive silence and Morty felt his muscles tensing, his legs getting ready to run, getting ready to–

A light blinked into life ahead of them and Morty jerked forwards, bumping into Rick.

The older man laughed, his back shaking under Morty’s hands, where they came to rest in his shock, and he jumped back. He could feel heat coloring his cheeks. Good thing Rick was facing away from him.

“Scared much?” Humor colored Rick’s voice.

“Sh-shut up.”

He craned his neck to look past Rick’s shoulder at the illuminated area. In front of them the narrow corridor still continued until it widened out to a room, but it was too far away for Morty to make out what was inside.

Something sparkled in his peripheral vision and Morty looked at the walls again. Something was there… Rick didn’t move, so he must’ve noticed something, too. Morty looked at every individual black tile, at the walls, finally lifting his eyes to the ceiling… There!

A small metallic box was situated in the corner between wall and ceiling and he could see another one in the other corner. They were small and practically invisible in the dark, but they were polished to the point of shining and the minimal level of light caught against the metal surface.

Rick whistled under his breath silently and his eyes were looking somewhere in the direction of the boxes.

“That’s some s-serious security, Morty.” Rick said.

“Wh-wh-what do they do, Rick? They don’t l-look like much...”

“You see, Morty, these little boys are the Ultimate Home Security Box Version 3.5 With All New Weapons Pack.”

“The Ultimate Home Security Box Version 3.5?”

“Yeah, with All New Weapons Pack. Saw it just the other day in the Guns Intergalactic Magazine, Morty. You see, the little boxes are actually equipped with a shitton of weapons.” Rick patted his pockets and withdrew his flask, “To activate them you just need to move a little bit beyond the critical point. Since we’re not dead yet, the point must be really close–”

“R-Rick, maybe we should, ugh, should move a b-bit away, Rick?”

“–Y-You know, Morty, I bet the line is just a wave behind,” Rick unscrewed the flask and took a deep gulp, “If I just waved – bleagh – waved my hand,” Rick gestured with his flask, the liquid splashing over the top, and the little boxes opened up, various guns and lasers transforming and forming before his very eyes. His legs froze and he stared at the blinking red light. A shot, a beam, any, any second now.

Hands pushed him back and Rick splashed his liquor at the two corners, the liquid connecting with the open cables, and Morty fell on his ass. His head gave a heavy pulse of pain, a read beam flew past his cheek and Rick withdrew two small metal balls from his pocket and threw them at the boxes. They exploded in clouds of gray smoke and Rick shot at the clouds with a laser attached to his watch.

Sounds of electricity sprakling and his own heavy breathing reached Morty’s ears. A hole in the wall where his head was just seconds ago smoked and Morty climbed to his trembling legs.

The smoke cleared away from the little boxes and Morty eyed them, but they were frozen in their withdrawn state, multiple barrels fixated on them and he hurried past them. The guns failed to move and Rick after tilting his flask to a vertical position and drinking the last drops from it followed Morty.

“They – blaugh – they’re no match to my own guns, obviously, but I gotta give it to them, Morty, they’re pretty impressive for dumb folk like that shithead to have.”

They entered the well-lit room.

Shelves full of different-colored bottles lined the walls, curving under the massive weight. Rick’s gleeful grin was reflected in seemingly all of them.

He produced a cloth from his pocket, shaking it to reveal two small black bags, and pushed one into Morty’s hands. “Should have taken bigger ones…” Rick muttered under his breath.

Morty sighed, ignored his shaky exhale and went to work, grabbing any sort of bottle he saw and stuffing it into the bag, while Rick did the same on the other side of the room. By this point he just wanted to get back home.

Morty’s fingers were wrapping around another bottle’s neck when an alarm blasted through the room and the bottle wavered and fell with a crash, splattering blue liquid all over the white tiles while his hands flew to cover his ears from the blaring sound. Rick’s cursing still managed to penetrate through the ruckus.

Suddenly, his hand was grabbed and Rick pulled him through the narrow corridor to enter into the main corridor and Rick pulled him to the left, starting to walk in a brisk pace.

“Don’t drop the bag,” Rick said and Morty nodded. He shouldered the bag and made sure it was firmly attached to him. He could see Rick doing the same with his own bag.

Shouting echoed all around him, competing with the loudness of the alarm. A group of heavily built, huge aliens, all of different colors and hairiness level, appeared from the corner of the corridor and Rick cursed loudly. They started running in a different direction from the not-so-friendly looking aliens. Morty had to admit – he had no wish to interact with the aliens from a closer range but they mercilessly followed them, never lagging behind. Morty’s heart started its heavy rhythm and his view narrowed to Rick and the path in front of him. His legs carried him effortlessly and they flew down the corridors.

Black flashed against his eyes and Morty blinked. The next moment everything was tinted red and alarm lights were opening up from their hidden spaces in the ceiling. Each of them they passed quicker and quicker.

An intersection-like corridor appeared in front of them. Rick dashed to the right and Morty’s heart gave a heavy beat. His legs were failing to comply with his thoughts and he almost blew past the corner but managed to run after Rick. Heavy grunts failed to lag behind.

The walls shook and a space opened in the ceiling. A thick metal plate appeared from the opening and was coming down in a respectable pace, obstructing their only way forward. In all the movies Morty has seen, such things always had to be slow so why was it coming down so quickly?! His breath was starting to come out in loud bursts and his headache was pulsing in time with his heartbeat. They started to run faster and the space between him and Rick increased as Rick’s long legs ate up the distance. Morty tried to move his legs faster – come on! – but he couldn't manage to move faster and the metal plate was halfway down. Rick grabbed his hand, his palm hot, and Morty clutched at him.

They ran up to the narrowing exit, Rick slid on his knees past the open space and Morty didn’t even think. His legs folded up, his body moved after his grandpa and he was on the other side of the blockage. Inertia and Rick’s hand pulled him to his feet and they ran forward.

The sound of heavy footsteps and grunting were left behind them. His heart and lungs were working overtime and every inhale was a deep and ragged one, burning as it made its quick way in and out. The sound of Rick’s heavy breathing in front of him matched his own.

Rick threw open the main doors and jumped down the few steps down. A well-oiled machine despite his age. Morty’s legs and thoughts failed to cooperate and he tumbled down the stairs, small stones digging into his flesh as he fell to his hands and knees.

Rick grabbed his arm again and Morty staggered to his feet. He was struggling for breath and his legs felt like lead but Rick continued forward and Morty followed him, his mind empty except for the pain in his lungs. They ran down the same pink streets, shoving people of their way. More than a couple of pairs of red eyes glared at their backs.

The ship! It was like a blessing to Morty’s eyes and his heart trembled. He clutched at the straps of his bag and forced his pulsing body to move after Rick. Nausea twisted his stomach and tried to climb up his throat and Morty tried to swallow the feeling down. Just a few more steps away–

His leg pulsed and folded under him. The side he was lying on was pulsing in time with his heart and he moaned. When he blinked open, the pavement swam into his sight and he tried to move his arms, to push himself up when hands grabbed him and pulled him up.

Cold metal bruised his right temple. A gun.

Morty swallowed. Rick was frozen in front of him, his hand touching the body of the ship. Would it help if he puked all over the alien’s holding him shoes? He swallowed again and hoped it wouldn’t pan out to be useless against his stomach, which was trying to turn over inside his body.

“Freeze!” The green goblin from before walked from behind Morty and he jerked against the alien’s restricting hands, when he was jerked back and probed with the gun again.

The green glob stopped to face Rick. “Give us back what you stole and you can leave. Both of you.”

Rick’s hand, which was touching the ship, fell down to rest against his side and curled into a punch.

“Why-why do you think I care about this dipshit? Y-you know what, I’m just going to enter my sh-ship and–“

“If you didn’t care, you would be already leaving the planet,” The goblin interrupted him and walked to stand next to Morty. Rough fingers grabbed his face and it was wrenched forwards, to look at Rick. He couldn’t see the alien’s face from the position his head was forced into, but he could feel hot breath against his skin. A stone the size of a boulder seemed to settle in his stomach and he gulped.

“I’m something of a collector myself, you see.” The fingers holding his face in place moved, as if to knead dough and a cold shiver ran down his back. “I’m sure I could find a suitable place for this little... ‘dipshit’.”

Cold sweat ran down his back in time with shivers. The fingers holding his cheeks felt so very cold and lifeless, yet slimey, like everywhere they touched they left invisible trails.

Rick’s form was still, unnaturally still, and his eyes swept over their whole group before landing on him. The cool blue gaze bored into him and he looked back, not breaking contact. Rick’s gaze was like being nailed to a wall and Morty felt as if he was about to be dissected, his every weakness and thought brought out to the open. The fingers and hands holding into him lost their shiver-inducing effect and he took a deep breath. Rick won’t leave him. He needed the brain wavelengths he provided. He wouldn’t leave. As he looked at Rick he was sure of it, and he tried to relax his muscles, yet remain ready to bolt at any time.

Rick blinked and looked back at the green goblin.

“What do you w-want?” Rick’s voice was as cool as ice, ready to cut and impale and drown in freezing water anyone that twitched the wrong way. He could hear the shuffling of boots behind him. Despite the clear disadvantage Rick was in, he radiated confidence and power, and Morty felt his stomach twist again.

Rough fingers let go of his face and the goblin moved slightly away from him, yet the harsh metal of the gun was still firmly placed at his temple.

“Well,” the goblin said, “first of all I’d like to get what you’ve stolen back. I’m sure you know the value of it.”

Nobody moved and it was as if time was frozen. Something sharp from the bag was digging into his back and the whole covered area felt too warm, the straps weighting him down and his shoulders tensed up. Rick’s calculating gaze swept over them all and came back to him again. Rick nodded slightly.

“Let Morty give you his bag and I’ll give mine and you let him go.”

The green goblin must’ve nodded or waved or gave some other sign because the brute behind his back moved away, the hands holding him let him go, but the gun only moved its position to the back of his head. The hairs the gun was touching stood up on end.

With sweaty hands he clutched at the straps and slowly lowered the bag to the ground, bottles clinking together when it touched the ground. A different alien, just as huge and menacing looking as all the others grabbed the bag and moved back to his position.

“It’s your turn now, Rick,” the goblin said.

Rick’s eyes narrowed but he complied and slipped the bag off, holding it in front of himself by the straps. “The boy.” His voice was steady.

“Tsk, tsk.” The green alien shook his head. “That’s not how it works. The bag.”

Rick’s whole body tensed and the hand by his side wavered before he relaxed. “Okay.” He moved forward a few steps and the sound of guns, whatever type they were, getting ready to shoot fixated at Rick.

“Chill, dawg. I’m just going to put th-the bag down.” The group of aliens remained silent but they didn’t withdraw their guns. Morty swallowed against his dry mouth, but it was useless.

Rick didn’t move forward again, just put the bag down, holding out his hands in the air, and moved backwards until his back hit the ship.

The green goblin waved with his hand towards the bag and one of the bigger aliens jogged forward to grab it before moving back, the whole time facing Rick with one hand on his gun holster.

“Let go of- let Morty go.”

The green goblin moved in front of him and peered down at his face. “Hmm...” His voice trailed off and Morty’s legs began to tremble under him. They were like sticks of cheese about to collapse and god, oh god, have mercy on him.

“Ckraczhy.” Rick growled at the green goblin and the alien twitched, his body sagging a bit. He moved away but Morty kept his eyes firmly on Rick and the alien disappeared from his field of vision. The gun poked him harshly in the back and he stumbled forward, almost collapsing to his knees before he found his footing and rushed to Rick’s side.

“Get in the ship, Morty.”

On unsteady feet he stumbled to the other side of the ship, opened the door and climbed in. He crumbled against the comfortably-stained chair and rubbed a hand against his cheeks. The goblin’s fingers clung to his skin despite being behind the safety of the ship and, god, a shower and soap would be heavenly right now. Morty couldn't wait to be home and sit in the shower for a few hours until the feeling of rough hands and fingers disappeared from his mind.

The door on the other side closed with a loud bang and Morty jerked in his seat, his blood pumping steadily. Rick took his seat, turned on the engine and stared ahead, as if the seat next to him was empty. Morty secured his seat belt, clutched at his legs and turned to look through the ship’s window.

The view of pink houses grew smaller and smaller until it was just one big blob of messed up color and Morty rested his face against the cool glass. The stars and darkness around them were a familiar sight, tugging somewhere deep within him and he exhaled. His body felt like it was thrumming from inside out but he closed his eyes and tried to relax.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I'm not the best at sticking to a schedule, okay? Anyways, Thursday, Friday, whatever, at least it's not a week late, right?   
> Please enjoy the new chapter. I would love to know what you thought and the next chapter should be posted at around the same time next week. <3

The ship purred silently and darkness enclosed them in a calm embrace. Morty slouched against the seat and tried to ignore the frequent glances his grandpa was shooting at him. A snort left his lips and Rick tensed next to him. His body felt like it weighted five times as much and he had trouble keeping his eyes open for extended periods of time but the familiarity of the ship was like a balm to his nerves. Even the headache he was sporting practically all day all but disappeared!

He glanced at Rick. The older man didn’t look as chill as he did. His body was unnaturally slouched in his seat, but both hands were gripping the steering wheel, knuckles white, his eyes alert on a non-existent road. Rick wasn’t that focused when they were evading space debris during a high-speed chase, yet he looked into the empty space like it would jump out at him at any moment now.

“S-so,” Morty stuttered and cleared his voice. Like that will help. “Did-did you learn anything new at the goblin – at the alien’s house?”

Rick lifted one side - as far as he could tell looking at Rick’s side profile - of his unibrow.

“Goblin?” Rick said, “I guess he did look a bit like a – like a goblin. Too fat thought. Like a glob.”

A shudder passed through Morty. “Eww...”

Rick laughed and a small smile clung to his lips. “Hey, some aliens dig that, Morty. You have such a planetary mindset.”

Morty shook his head and a few bangs of hair flew in front of his eyes. “Did-did you see him, Rick? I bet even Frughijins don’t go for him and they thought Jerry was cool!”

Rick laughed and his eyes gained wrinkles on the sides. Morty couldn’t avert his eyes and clutched at his tights. “For such a dickwad?” Rick dug into the side of his cushion and withdrew with a flask in hand. “You’re absolutely right, dawg.”

Rick looked down at him, his eyes twinkling. The remaining adrenaline in Morty’s system somehow translated to a startled laugh – maybe from once again having ran away with his life and limbs intact but Morty didn’t know for sure anymore.

Rick frowned. “What’s so-so funny, dweeb?”

“No-nothing!” He failed to hide his smile and he must’ve looked ridiculous but it just felt so good to laugh again. Rick’s face cleared and a small smile appeared again, making something warm bloom in Morty’s chest.

He twirled the flask in his hand. “You want some, Morty?”

He wrinkled his nose. To drink the strong bleach Rick preferred? “No, thanks.”

Rick screwed open the cap with one hand. “Suit yourself.”

Morty fidgeted in his seat. “So-so, did you learn any-anything useful at his place?”

“I guess somewhat. Let me- let me tell you, Morty, Grandpa Rick here doesn’t have all the time in the world to learn about all the useless sh-shit in the world, so dipshits like him do come in – in handy from time to time. Anyways, it’s an alien.”

“What?” Morty frowned. “An alien? But how did it sneak in to freeze-to freeze Jerry?”

“It probably didn’t have to.”

“Huh?” Morty knew he must’ve looked like an idiot, but what?

Rick smirked. “There are types of creatures out there, Morty, out there that prey on whole planets, Morty. Guess we looked like a nice snack.”

“P-P-Planets?!” He squeaked. Was Rick trying to pull shit past him again? But Rick’s face didn’t look like it was trying not to twitch from barely suppressed laughter at a bad imitation of a poker face, rather, he was grinning outright.

“Yuuuup.” Rick popped the ‘p’ and took another gulp from his flask. “More or less, bingo.”

“That’s–“

The ship suddenly lurched forwards and a few red beams shot past them, flying further into black space.

Morty twisted to look behind himself. Three ships, bigger than theirs, were quickly gaining on them and fired a few more beams, most of which missed, but the ship was lurched forward again.

Rick cursed.

“Who...” Morty glanced at Rick, his heavy body protesting against being in a tense position again, and noticed as Rick frowned, his lips tightened to a white line.

“W-w-what the fuck, Rick?!” Morty shot him a glare. “I thought they were supposed to let us go, Rick. What the fuck did you do?” he shouted, twisting to face Rick.

Rick grinned and drew out a bottle of violet liquid with one hand from inside his coat, the other holding into the steering wheel. “Top quality vodka, Morty!” He howled, his eyes blazing. Morty’s blood boiled.

“The fuck!” He jumped on Rick, grabbing at the bottle, Rick jerking out of his reach. Morty jabbed at Rick’s side, ignoring the grunt of pain. He pushed himself higher into the other man’s seat, not caring where his knees went. Rick grabbed his left arm in a painful hold. Morty jerked forward, his fingers slipping against the glass of the bottle. Rick hissed.

“Fuck!” They crashed into the right side, his elbow banging against something. His view blackened, tunneled. Rick shoved him back into his own seat and grabbed at the wheel. The bottle was firmly clenched between his legs. He jerked the wheel to the left, a red beam flew right past Morty’s window.

“We’re fucking being attacked!” Rick shouted, jerked them in all direction, “It’s your fucking fault! You fucking Morty-shit! So leave your sh-shit for when we’re not blasted at from all sides by fuckwits!” He clutched at the wheel.

“F-Fuck you, Rick!”

“Suck my balls!” They jerked roughly to the right again.

Morty heard a crack behind them and Rick cursed loudly. “Those fuck-asses slipped me rigged glass. Take the fucking wheel, Morty!” Rick slithered from his seat to the back and the ship lurched to the right sharply before Morty grabbed the wheel and used the momentum to start zigzagging. He climbed over to the driver seat and heard things breaking and crashing in the back where Rick was throwing things wildly. The glass in the back creaked ominously.

“Find us a fucking planet, Morty, before that shit shatters and we become vacuum-dried human raisins—found it!” Rick climbed back to the front of the ship, this time occupying the passenger seat, and threw a plasma gun onto his lap, holding another one in his hands.

A heavy sound came from the back and they lurched forward – their ship wouldn’t hold out for long.

A planet glittered in the dark. Morty twirled the ship to the side, twisting like a spiral down. Plasma shots zipped past them and they broke through the atmosphere.

The wheel was wildly shaking under his palms and they were steeply falling down, the ground coming closer at an alarming rate.

“Morty!” Rick’s voice was unnaturally high-pitched and Morty would have laughed if he had breath to spare.

He pulled at the wheel with all his might and slowed their descent as well as he could, but gravity was unforgiving. Their ship met the ground in an aggressive crash and Morty’s whole body was thrown forwards, but the seat belt held him in a merciless grip. Out of the corner of his eye Morty saw as Rick was jerked forward and met the glass head-on.

God… Morty let out a moan. His whole chest and stomach burned and he could feel bile trying to make its way upwards.

“Morty, Morty, get up, Morty.”

He blinked open and Rick’s form swam into his view. Rough hands fumbled with his seat belt’s clasp and freed him from the seat. Rick kicked their side door open and dragged him to the open air. Red shots flew above their heads and Rick cursed.

He was dragging them out of the ship when another read beam flew at them.

“Fuck!” Morty grabbed at his pulsing leg but Rick continued to drag him further away.

“Morty, buddy, I-I need you to focus now.” The world was spinning wildly and Rick had four eyes instead of the usual two but he could feel the butt of the gun slipping into his numb hands and he nodded. Pain blossomed in his head and, okay, nodding was not a good idea. His leg was a throbbing mess of meat and bone and blood and he needed to–

Rick grabbed into him and pushed him down. Morty’s legs folded under him, scrapping against rough stone and he blinked open.

It was like trying to see through fog or smoke, but he could make out that they were hiding behind the ship, which was dangerously parked on its side and red beams were scraping against the ship’s body and flying in the air around them. The three ships following them were calmly parked on the other side. Aliens of all colors and shapes were standing or crouching besides their ships with their guns drawn and Morty could make out the ships’ defenses trained on their spot.

He took a deep breath despite his protesting chest and focused his plasma gun. He shot, the alien’s chest bled blue and he crumbled to the ground, exhaled, did it again and again and again. Saw Rick doing the same next to him. He tried to move a bit to the right and moved his injured leg before freezing in place. His vision darkened at the edges and he blinked rapidly, but the edges wouldn’t recede and the aliens before him moved in waves, like they were at sea. He shot but the beam went wide. He couldn’t…

“Get my portal gun, Morty!” Rick said and shot another alien between his four eyes.

Morty slid more firmly behind the ship and bit back a moan as his leg was moved, his hands coming to clutch at Rick’s lab coat, making the man sway. Rick cursed above him and Morty plunged his hand into one of the pockets, grabbing the handle.

His heart was thudding and he didn’t need to see it to know something was wrong, but when he withdrew the gun it was oozing green liquid, which seemed to start evaporating the moment it met air, from its glass case.

“R-Rick?” His voice came out in a harsh whisper and he cleared his voice. “Rick! I think the portal gun is a-a little bit broken!”

Rick’s wild eyes fell down, a flash as theirs met. “Bullshit!” He went back to his previous task with a hard twist to his lips.

“We-we could try using it any-anyways,” he said but Rick shook his head.

“Give me-hand me the portal gun, Morty!” Rick outstretched his hand and Morty’s hand trembled as he handed it over.

Rick opened the hidden compartment, flipped the switch, “A deep breath,” and threw it.

He fell down on him and Morty’s back met the rough stone, driving all breath out of him. A loud bang met his ears just as Rick’s arms braced him on either side of Morty’s head.

He blinked and Rick knelt up before him, smoke trailing in the sky above them. He grabbed Morty’s hand and staggered to his feet, pulling Morty with him. The ground under his legs swayed in warning and Morty leaned against Rick’s chest. He stunk of smoke and booze.

“We need to- we gotta go, Morty.”

He felt his head nod and Rick grab his hand, dragging him away on clumsy legs.

They were hobbling though what seemed like a stone city center square. There were houses and little vendor shops all around them and small, chest high humanoid aliens were cowering behind various objects. A man clad in a little blue uniform shrunk away as Rick and Morty passed him, hiding behind a trash can.

Rick dragged them to a small street, then through an even smaller alleyway, weaving their way through the grid-like city. Morty’s leg was pulsing in time with his wild heartbeat and he felt like falling right there and then but Rick’s hand was firm and warm where he held his own, dragging him forwards. He swallowed a few times and tried not to think of the, oh god, the excruciating pain and just focused his eyes on the ground, doing his best not to trip over anything.

If he fell, he wouldn’t stand up again.

Morty didn’t know how much time passed but between one blink and the next Rick was pushing him against a hard surface and helping him to sit down. His ass met the pavement with a hard fall and his bad leg grazed against the ground.

Blazing pain traveled lighting fast through his whole body and his throat pulsed as he ground his teeth and threw his head back, trying to swallow the scream down.

“-shhh-” Rick’s hand were trailing down his sides, “shh, everything will be fine M-Morty. ‘Tis but a scratch.” Rick’s hands hesitated at his bleeding leg and Morty couldn’t make out denim from meat. Rick took off his coat, “You-you know that movie, Morty?” Rick ripped at the sleeves of his coat until the seams went apart. “Total – total–“

His vision went white and his nerves were on fire. Fire licked at his hurt leg and consumed it, climbing further up his body while ants were crawling under his skin and the whole world melted away. Air left his lungs and he tried to scream but all that came out was a whisper.

“M-Morty, Morty.” Rick’s rough voice penetrated the ringing and he opened his heavy eyes. “We gotta move, buddy.”

Rick’s face was bleached white, red scraps and blooming bruises popping out on his face. A few red droplets were dried on his temple. Morty nodded and resolutely didn’t look at his bandaged leg.

Strong arms grabbed him under his armpits and with the help of the wall behind Morty’s back, he staggered to his feet, one arm slung over Rick’s shoulders.

Every step felt like needles digging into his bones and heavy breathing filled his ears but Morty moved on, his thoughts narrowing down to one step, a blink, two steps, a blink, pain, pain, pain for what felt like eternity.

Loud voices met their ears and Rick cursed and dragged them to a narrow alleyway. His hurt leg was starting to get numb and the last few feet it was dragged along the ground.

Rick propped him against the wall and his one leg took all of his weight while his palms dug into the wall behind him. The dead-end they were stuck in was so narrow Rick was practically blocking the whole exit by standing at the opening. His plasma gun was steady in his arms and his eyes hard. Voices became louder with every painful breath.

Morty clung into Rick’s arm and felt as Rick grabbed into his hand, giving it a hard squeeze.

“Rick. Give me a plasma gun, Rick.” He tugged at his hand but Rick shook his head.

“You dropped yours besides the ship. Besides, Morty, you telling me Grandpa Rick here can’t take them all on his own?” His lips twisted into what was supposed to be a smile but his eyes were steady on the opening to the alleyway.

His leg gave an unforgiving pulse of pain and he almost collapsed. There were too many even for Rick when he couldn’t move away from his spot unless he wanted a dead grandson.

He looked at the clear sky and felt laughter bubbling under his skin. They were absolutely fucked. If only–

His eyes were prickling and an obnoxious red light entered his peripheral vision.

He jerked, felt his muscles tensing and he moaned when his leg gave a painful response in kind.

“R-Rick.” He tugged at his hand. “Rick, look.”

The voices were in the street right next to their hiding place.

Rick’s eyes followed his heavy arm to look at the pointed sign. Lit in red the skinny shape of a woman and letters blurred in front of Morty’s eyes as he took in the sign but he knew what it was without needing to make out the name.

A voice like thunder traveled down their street. “Boss!”

Rick grabbed his arm to sling it over his shoulders and dragged him over to the metal door. The sound of his heart working overtime in his ears clashed horribly against the advancing footsteps.

Rick tried the handle, but the door wouldn’t budge and Morty felt like puking.

His breathing was coming out in fast and loud burst, and god, was that the alien’s shadow?

Rick banged at the door with his knee and the handle turned without a hitch, revealing the area behind it. They practically fell through but Rick firmly held into him and closed the door the moment they were through.

Morty rested against the closed doors, the cold metal biting into his back through his sweat soaked shirt, and listened to Rick’s muffled breathing next to his ears.

The handle didn’t turn, the door didn’t open and the alien didn’t reveal them. Nothing happened and Morty felt like crying. He felt Rick’s body melt against his side.

“Well, fuck me...”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a few days late, but what else is new.
> 
> Warning:  
> Anyways, this chapter contains graphic description of an injury, so if you're squeamish or otherwise uncomfortable, you can skip this chapter, it won't change much. I have also decided to change the rating from mature to explicit, both due to the injury description and other content later in the fic. I will warn before the chapters if anything is particularly explicit, though.
> 
> Happy reading and I hope you leave a comment!

Morty’s arm was hanging over Rick’s shoulders and Rick’s strong arms were holding him upright around his middle. They staggered to the only bed in the room and Morty would have fallen over face first if Rick’s hands didn’t tighten around him.

“Easy…” Rick said and helped him to lie down on his back.

When Morty blinked at the ceiling, the yellow stains swam across his vision and black spots pulsed in time with the pain in his leg. Rick’s wild-strewn hair entered his field of vision.

“M-Morty, wait here.” The hair disappeared from his vision and his hands lifted to grab into Rick’s shirt, but only met empty air. Footsteps thundered across the room and out.

Left alone, the sound of his harsh breathing and his heavy heartbeat in his ears, the walls felt like they were closing in on him. He felt like crying, he felt like puking, he felt like curling in a corner and dying. The pain was searing from his leg upwards in an all-encompassing heat, towards his chest and his head. With every stuttering breath the hot pain flared and Morty clutched at his hair, sweat coating his palms. The pain, god, the searing hot pain left prickles at the corner of his eyes and every time he thought about looking down, his vision darkened, as if getting ready.

But the pulsing pain in his leg didn’t leave him alone, like a worm slithered through his agony filled thoughts. The need to look crawled under his skin, something primal thuddering against his chest. Morty twisted his fingers in the sheets and lifted his head, while his gaze leapt to his leg.

Red swam across his vision. His leg below the knee was tightly bandaged by Rick’s dirt-white coat, but blood had seeped through the layers to the open. His heart did its best to beat out of his chest and his lungs felt as if they were constrained by invisible hands, but his eyes couldn’t leave the sight alone. As he struggled to breath, air whistling through his nose, Morty could swear the crimson spot on the coat grew. The edges of his vision blackened.

The door banged and Rick strode to his side. “Morty.”

“Rick…” a whine left his lips without conscious thought. Something flashed in the room. Rick held a pair of big scissors in his hand.

“It will be fine, Morty.” Steady fingers twisted the knot of the lab coat and unwound the piece of clothing from his leg.

Dark red seeped forward and Morty’s stomach lurched warningly. He couldn’t make out where jean ended and skin began.

“Don’t look, M-Morty,” Rick said.

The wound was deep and sparklingly wet from blood, while the edges were black and the jeans around the wound burnt.

“Morty.”

His gaze was transfixed on his leg. Despite his stomach crawling to his throat and his eyes starting to water, Morty could only hear his own heartbeat in his ears and look at the seeping wound.

Fingers grabbed at his chin and forced his head forward. Piercing blue eyes met his own. Deep ridges lined his forehead and the corners of his eyes, while spots of dirt and blood popped out against his pale skin. “Lie down, Morty. And don’t look.”

Rick relaxed his hold on him and his head fell to the bed, as if cut cleanly away from his neck. Morty screwed his eyes shut and hid them behind his palms, just in case.

“It’s j-just a plasma wound, M-Morty. Y-You’re such a pussy.” Rick’s said and cold metal kissed his skin as scissors made quick work of jeans. “Just a-a bit of a scratch and you’re always losing your shit.”

Replacing the nauseating beating in his ears, the room filled with Rick’s voice and the sound of scissors snipping. The _snip snip_ s fell silent, footsteps against carpet, then warm hands touched his naked skin again.

Morty wanted to look, but Rick’s warning still rang in his ears, so he just screwed his eyes shut tighter. But his heart counted the time for him, with Rick’s form still kneeling next to him and the unknown hanging in the air. Rick… What was he planning?

Pain seared where the wound was, traveling upwards, and his hands twisted into the sheets. A painful moan had torn itself out of his throat. “R-Rick.”

“Be quiet, Morty. Or th-they’ll think I’m slaughtering someone in here.” His wound was now constantly pulsing in pain and little sounds of pain filled the room. “I’m just cl-cleaning your wound, don’t want an infection, do we, Morty.”

Agony, sharp and merciless, tugged at his leg, like Rick was trying to rip the skin off the meat and bone and Morty cried out. His eyes shot open, his body had moved on its own accord into a sitting position and his fingers were white where they wrapped around Rick’s wrist.

“S-S-Stop!” Morty cried out and Rick’s face swam in front of him, but his hold was firm. Rick held up his arms up, in a universal sign of surrender, and pink water tickled down his arms. Sunken and dark eyes bored into him.

“O-Okay, Morty, I’ll stop,” Rick stood up, “I need to grab some things, so I need you to stay here,” Morty shook his head, “I will need to wrap the coat around your leg again.”

“Rick… Y-Y-You can’t le-leave. P-Please, Rick!” The broken voice that spoke in Morty’s stead didn’t sound like his own, nor did the pleas, but he didn’t care anymore. Nevertheless, Rick’s cold eyes didn’t shift and Morty’s body trembled on the bed. A soft palm pushed at his chest and, like a puppet with its string cut, Morty flopped down on the bed again. As Rick tied the coat around his leg again, the pain spiked and there was no run-or-die adrenaline to take his mind off the wound.

Footsteps retreated from the room and the door softly closed behind the retreating man. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, but Morty clenched his jaw shut, twisted his fingers into a punch, and willed the tears away. The pain, however, didn’t care about his grinding teeth or the nails digging into the meat of his palm, and steadily pulsed in time with his vision, becoming a nauseating and disorienting mix for his brain to process.

* * *

Time lost its meaning. His existence was measured by the pulses of pain and his exhausted heartbeat and Morty’s mind was eerily blank. When the door was opened and Rick entered, it took a few beats for his mind to process, but when he did, Rick was already kneeling besides his leg, a white plastic bag lying by his feet on the ground. His heart picked up.

“Rick…” It came out nothing more than a colored breath, but Rick still lifted his head and blue eyes met his. There were a few streaks of something on his face and his shirt, but it didn’t look like blood, at least not their kind of blood. 

Then the moment was broken and Rick rustled around his bag. There were white small boxes upon boxes that Rick opened and popped pills out of their packaging. When he was done, he had half a palm full, various colors, and without much preamble lifted them to Morty’s mouth. His lips opened on their own under Rick’s watchful gaze, but his breathing had sped up as he wondered with what Rick was going to drug him up.

“W-water,” Morty said, his mouth full of the bitter stuff, and Rick rolled his eyes.

“What am-am I? A fairy god-mother?” But despite the grumbling, Rick twisted, the bag rustled, and in a second a water bottle was pushed into his waiting hands. When he tried to unscrew the cap, his hands slipped, as if devoid of all strength. After a few tries, soothing cold water met his tongue and Morty tried to gulp the pills down. But there were way too many for him and they scraped as they went down his throat and Morty coughed, his leg unhappy at being jostled. He stifled his coughs and kept his leg as steady as possible.

Rick took the water bottle from his hands, screwed it shut and placed it somewhere on the ground, out of Morty’s field of vision. Rick exhaled and Morty watched as Rick’s throat moved. Deft fingers loosened the knot on the coat and the fabric fell away. His leg from knee down was naked until his socks began. Despite the fact the fabric was cut away, Morty could still make out some blue sticking to his skin where the wound began. His heart barely gave a flutter as he looked at the black and red mess.

“Lie down,” Rick said.

Morty’s head fell down on the bed and his world lurched, becoming a whirlwind of colors until once again stabilizing on the yellow stained ceiling. Something wet trickled down his leg again and Morty imagined the sheets under him absorbing the liquid, becoming stained red forever and ever.

He blinked. Fingers were doing something to his leg. The skin prickled there, as if being picked apart, piece by piece peeled away. He imagined it dried out, crumbling under his grandpa’s touch, but the man would pick and pick and pick until he got to bone.

He blinked again. The ceiling was still stained yellow. Like in Rick’s room, like Rick’s fingertips, like Rick’s old coat. Yellow from what? He imagined Rick sitting in his room, in the dark, alone, smoke trailing from a cigarette to the ceiling. He imagined all the beakers and liquids that have passed Rick’s slender fingers, some must have stained him. Or was it just old age? He imagined Rick’s coat was like the man himself, stained and ripped and patched. Maybe the yellow was from soil that didn’t want to wash itself away, maybe from all the things Rick drank, poured into his flask, spilled, and drank again.

He blinked again. Rick was still kneeling next to his leg. Morty twisted his head to the side, mushed his cheeks against rough sheet. Something slender and metallic was clutched in Rick’s hands. It moved smoothly over his leg, picking something, dropping it into a bag, picking, dropping, again, again, again. Rick’s movements weaved themselves into a rhythm that even his heart began to follow, as if too weak to resist the man’s influence. It never wavered, the back and forth of Rick’s hand, and Morty imagined the stained fingers again.

He blinked again. When he opened his eyes, Rick was drinking from his flask. The metal of the bottle flashed in the dim room, then was expertly hidden… somewhere. The coat? No, the coat was lying somewhere hidden, no, discarded, stained red. But Rick didn’t need his coat to hide his flask, no, Rick was good at that. His leg pickled while being picked at again.

He blinked again. The room was dark, but his leg was blindingly white. Did Rick change his leg? Twisted his thigh and the joint popped, sizzling the way electricity and mechanoids did. Threw the leg somewhere far, carelessly abandoning it. Took a new leg, shiny, a new model, and popped it back into place. _Whoosh_ , his body would hiss and be brand new again, electricity flashing under his skin, unseen, because Rick was a genius and his work was always impeccable like that.

He blinked again. His leg under the knee was bandaged and the stark white he saw wasn’t new skin or a new limb, it was just the bandage. Rick’s fingers moved, then let go. The bandage stayed secured to his leg. When Rick lifted his head, his eyes flashed with something.

“Go to sleep,” Rick said.

Morty blinked again. The room was dark and he heard rustles as Rick moved from his kneeling position. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.

* * *

“Morty…”

A girl, a bit taller than him, was sitting on his coach at home. Jerry was still frozen and propped against a wall, more mannequin than human. Her hair was as pink as her lips and she wore a white crop top and a short pink skirt – a cheerleader’s uniform. She sprawled out, her hands rubbing sensually against the headrest of the coach and her legs fell open, revealing smooth thighs and a flash of white. Morty felt himself gulp, his mouth become dry. Sweat trickled down his back.

Her pink eyes pierced him and a sense of danger swooped down his stomach along with a sense of déjà vu. _Prey._ He thought and felt as a deer caught in headlights.

“Come back to me, Morty,” she licked her pink lips, “Come back.”

Morty blinked and darkness met him. After a few seconds the world around him gained shadows, variations to that darkness, and he rubbed at his eyes. He was lying on the bed he was just bleeding from his leg on, in some shady hotel or motel or whatever, on some unknown planet. _Come back_ was still ringing in his ears from his dream in the utter silence around him.

The air felt still and lifeless, while his body felt as if he was burning up, flames eating him from inside out. His mouth was parched and swallowing hurt, but the thought of moving seemed an impossible one. He turned his head and his eyes scanned the dark room, with just some light filtering through the window, from some headlight or maybe the moon. But his eyes didn’t catch on another person and a sigh escaped his lips. He was alone and Rick was somewhere else and he was destined to burn up in this room, for Rick to find his mummified corpse in the morning.

He sighed again, distantly realizing his weird thoughts were caused by his shitty wellbeing. But he felt heavy, exhausted, and in a matter of seconds was under again.

* * *

When he came to again, the room was still dim, but not as dark and oppressive as before. A curse met his ears in a too-familiar voice. Rick stumbled through the doorstep. He swayed dangerously and his hands came to clutch at the wall, spilling booze out of a bottle still clutched in a death grip. Rick cursed again and, with a sway, made his slow way through the small room to the king bed. Regular hiccups followed the man’s journey. A few seconds later Rick fell into bed on the other side of Morty, jostling the mattress and his leg gave a warning in the form of a twinge. Morty grimaced and looked at Rick’s back.

The smell of cigarette smoke and cheap, hard booze met his nose and it scrunched up. God, Rick reeked. Morty had half a mind to demand Rick take a shower, but quickly decided from the snores next to him to be a hopeless mission. He was just glad his grandpa decided to lie on his side, with his back facing Morty. He didn’t feel like moving and making sure Rick was lying in a position where he wouldn’t choke on his vomit or decide to share it to his face.

Morty sighed again and felt sweat run down his forehead to his eyes, making them burn. He cursed silently under his breath and tried to sit up, cursed again when his leg pulsed in pain. But he was being consumed by the heat and he desperately wanted to take off his shirt, so he twisted and bit his tongue to keep the moans of pain behind closed lips and finally managed to discard the shirt somewhere on the ground next to the bed.

His back crumpled on its own and he lied down again, facing Rick. He traced Rick’s clothed back with his fingertips, sure that, no matter what he did, Rick wouldn’t wake up from his drunk sleep. But he didn’t press more firmly, just traced feather-light across the wide back, sometimes catching a wrinkle or ridge in Rick’s shirt. He was warm under his touch and the warmth spread from his fingers to his core, different from the heat searing him. It was comfortable and didn’t make him twist in discomfort.

He fell asleep to Rick’s snores as if soothed by the greatest lullaby.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy and please comment!

“Morty. Wake up, Morty,” hands shook him.

“Five more minutes, Mom…” he said and tried to twist away. Pain flared from his leg and he choked on air as his lungs rushed to take a huge breath. He sat up coughing, his head swam and for a moment he couldn’t place the room he was in. Then the memories rushed in and he grimaced at his his throat, raw and dry.

“E-easy,” Rick was sitting next to him, his eyes bloodshot and still stinking of cheap bars and cheaper liquor. A water bottle was in his hands.

Morty leaned against the headboard behind him and tried to will the headache behind his eyes away. He gathered the covers firmer around himself as shivers ran down his back and only a moment later gathered that he didn’t have a duvet on him when he woke up at night.

A water bottle, cap unscrewed, was pushed into his hands, “Drink up, Morty.”

With trembling hands he gripped the bottle and tried to bring it to his lips, but it almost slipped from his grasp and he felt as if underwater when he tried to make his hands move. Warm fingers covered his and the bottle was once again stable in his grasp. Rick helped him lift the bottle to his lips and Morty felt as if heaven descended upon him when clear liquid went down his throat. He had never tasted anything as sweet as that first sip of water and he started drinking like a man dying of thirst.

Strong hands constrained his and the bottle lowered from his lips and wouldn’t budge.

“You have to take it slow, Morty. If you get sick, I’m not cleaning your fucking mess up,” Rick said.

Morty nodded, just to get the bottle back as fast as possible, and regretted it as the pain in his head once again made itself known. A sigh from Rick then the bottle budged and Morty sealed his lips around the edge. But he didn’t gulp it down like before, but rather sipped it, like Rick asked.

When it was empty, Rick took the bottle into his hands, screwed the cap on and placed it on the nightstand next to the bed.

“I’m going out for a-a bit,” Rick stood up.

Morty’s heart fluttered in his chest, “W-w-where?”

Rick waved his hand, as if to say _doesn’t matter_. “Food.”

When it became apparent that Rick won’t share any more details, Morty sighed and tried to slide down to lie on his side, but pain radiated from his leg and twisted his stomach. All air left his lungs in a gust and Morty bit down on his lip, but a moan of pain slipped through.

Out of a corner of his eyes, Morty saw as Rick frowned, but he was more focused on keeping as still as a statue halfway down to lying until the pulsing in his leg died down. When he blinked open, having closed his eyes at the pain, a palm with two white pills was in front of him. With a trembling hand he picked them up and brought them to his lips.

“Water?”

Rick rolled his eyes, but produced another full bottle from the ground next to the bed, unscrewed it and brought it close to Morty’s lips. Morty leaned forward and washed the bitter pills down his throat, the cool water almost as tasty as before. When he leaned away, Rick took the bottle and placed it on the nightstand. Morty lied down on the bed and pulled the duvet to his naked shoulders, shivering as the fabric brushed against his naked skin.

Rick stood up and exited the room, the click of the door unnaturally loud in the empty room.

A few seconds passed, but when Rick didn’t return, Morty slowly lifted the duvet and peered down at himself. He was naked except for his underwear and the bandage and a flush reached his cheeks, reminding of the heat he felt at night. But now, the cool air licked at his exposed flesh and Morty hurried to hide under the covers again.

He remembered how hot he felt at night and how through pain and curses he managed to twist his t-shirt up and throw it down. But, he still had pants on, even if a part of them was cut away at his right knee, and he was much too hot and exhausted to even consider tucking himself up when he fell asleep, and now he only had his underwear on and the covers were firmly around him.

Warmth spread from his core for a second and he felt his cheeks heating up, as if another flush was stacking up on the one he got when he realized Rick had stripped him. Excitement curled at his stomach, but kitten-kisses weak. He knew he was too exhausted to freak out accordingly, but he wasn’t that far gone to realize the feelings he felt were weird.

* * *

The click of the door closing woke him up and he wearily blinked open to grey light. Rick stumbled from the entrance, another white bag clutched in his hand. When he sat down next to him, the bed dipped and Morty winced, but the pain was nowhere the level as the previous night. Must be the pills still in his system and he wondered just how many chemicals were flowing through his bloodstream right then.

The bag rustled and Rick took out something wrapped in plastic with colorful pictures. As he started unwrapping whatever it was, Morty noted that the lettering was unfamiliar to him, but he was pretty sure that was ham and pickles painted on wrapping. Hands held out a sandwich in front of his face and Morty grimaced against his will.

His mouth still felt like cotton and his stomach twisted nauseatingly in warning, but Rick’s eyes flashed and so Morty uncovered his shaking hands where they firmly wrapped under the covers and took the sandwich.

“I’m n-not hungry, Rick,” he said.

“Listen up here, you little shit,” Rick’s voice was gravely and weirdly weighted down.

“B-But Rick…”

“No, Morty. Haven’t they thought you anything in school at all. Do you want to die in this bed because you were too stubborn to eat. Oh, yes, let me act like an immature child and refuse to eat, brilliant idea, let me proofread the speech for your Nobel Prize ceremony. I’ll even offer you a standing ovation-“

“Okay, okay, I g-get it, Rick,” Morty sighed and slowly lifted the sandwich to his lips.

He was pretty sure his whole face was twisted unhappily again, but he compiled with his grandpa’s demand and slowly took a nibble. The little piece of bread felt like a ball of flour against his dry tongue and uncomfortably scrapped his throat when he swallowed it down. When he looked at Rick again, maybe he could plea he wasn’t hungry once more, the man’s eyes firmly looked at him and his forehead was unkindly ridged, clearly displaying a no-arguments aura. Morty bit into the sandwich more firmly, chewing as quickly as he could, but when he felt something trying to come back up, he handed the sandwich back to Rick.

“I’m not hungry, Rick.” No amount of frowning from Rick could get him to eat the whole thing.

Rick sighed and took the piece of food from him, consuming it in big bites.

Now that Morty was looking at Rick again without the distraction of the offensive sandwich, he could note that the deep ridges weren’t only from his displeasure. They were firm in Rick’s pale face. Massive black bags, more wrinkles than usual and the beginnings of a stubble made his face look unkempt and tired, but were making tiny red scrapes and scratches pop.

A shiver raked through Morty’s body and he firmly wrapped the duvet around himself. The room was quickly cooling down and approaching freezing temperatures, but when he looked at Rick in only his long-sleeved shirt contently sucking on his finger as he finished the food, he contemplated if only he was starting to freeze. Concerned blue eyes met his and Rick frowned at him.

His warm palm met his forehead and Morty almost sighed in relief at the warmth but managed to contain it behind tightly sealed lips. He couldn’t stop the flutter of his eyelids blinking though and hoped Rick didn’t notice anything. The hand retreated.

“I’ll be back soon.” Rick said and stood up, a few long strides taking him to the door.

Morty closed his eyes and tried to savor the warmth still clinging, despite the rest of his body shivering from the cold, to his skin. Despite his body feeling heavy and sluggish, he couldn’t fall asleep. Morty wondered how much time passed while he was practically unconscious and decided he rather not know.

Slowly and carefully he wiggled to a sitting position with his back firmly leaning against the headboards. When he cast eyes around the room, he found nothing that could occupy his attention. There was only the bed he was lying on, an old and stained armchair in the corner with Rick’s coat discarded on it, flimsy curtains on the only window on his right and two doors to the left. One of them led to what he expected was the bathroom and the other was the exit – he had seen Rick going through that door more than he wanted to.

Now that he became somewhat more conscious and his brain was reminded that such a thing as a toilet existed, his bladder painfully stung. Morty again looked the bathroom door and considered how he could walk the seemingly miles stretching to it. He experimentally tried to move his leg and it gave an unhappy twinge but nothing as bad as it was in the beginning. Was it healing that quickly or was it all the pills he was ingesting that muted down the pain?

He was still considering if it was worth the pain to the bathroom when his bladder once again made itself known and decided for him. Slowly, he lifted the covers and shivered as the cold air met his skin. Little by little, he wobbled across the room and to the door, all the time trying to keep his weight off the bad leg.

When it creaked open, his suspicions were proven right and in front of him was a shower stained yellow and grey, a toilet with a broken seat and ancient, once-white tiles everywhere.

He relieved himself and hobbled back to the bed. Even under his covers the disgustingness of the bathroom crawled under his skin and he grimaced. The hotel’s sign – a scantily dressed woman lit in red – flashed in his mind and he had to admit that the rooms met the expectations of the sign. Morty doubted anyone respectable ever visited these rooms.

With nothing to do and sleep not coming to him, Morty cast his mind to the time they practically fell through the back doors. Even though his memories were foggy from pain, he could remember his arm thrown over Rick’s shoulders as he was practically dragged to the reception. The alien, and Morty couldn’t remember anything of how he looked, just that he wasn’t human, hadn’t even glanced at him when he asked how many nights.

What else happened in these rooms if he didn’t even bat an eyelid at a strange man dragging a ragged and bloody boy to a room? Morty shuddered and decidedly cast the thought away.

Rick’s words at that time had been muffled to him and the next memory he could recall was him lying in the bed. His wound flashed to his mind and he grimaced, lying down on his side and more firmly huddling under the covers. He had half a mind to look how his wound was doing, if it was healing that quickly, but he didn’t want to undo the bandage and be proven otherwise. He didn’t want to see the bloody mess his leg was again.

* * *

The room was dark when Rick stumbled through the door. Morty wanted to ask where he was and what he was doing, but decided to close his eyes and pretend to be sleeping. Behind his closed eyelids he listened as Rick walked across the room, the rustle of clothing, felt the bed dip and detected the unique scent of his grandpa mixed with a lesser than before scent of alcohol. He wanted to ask Rick if his leg was indeed healing as fast as he hoped but at the same time he didn’t want to deal with a drunk Rick and decided the questions can be left for the morning. The bed moved again and Morty suspected Rick was lying down next to him. The thought left him weirdly warm at the core and the room seemed warmer than ever before despite it being night. With someone else quietly breathing next to him, Morty found that his muscles relaxed and his eyelids already felt heavy.

Despite finally feeling warm and content, all he could manage was to doze and when he opened his eyes to the dark again, he was weirdly heavy around the middle. Morty blinked the sleepiness from his eyes at the weird feeling and searched with his hands for the weird weight. His palms met with warm skin and a flush met his skin as Morty’s mind finally went online and realized the warmth and heaviness came from Rick lying right next to his side, his arm thrown over his stomach. Slight puffs of air tickled his cheek and Morty turned his head to the side, coming face to face with Rick. In the dark, Morty could just make out his closed eyes and dark lips, just inches from his face, and the flush travelled from his face down his neck and stomach, making him uncomfortably hot. When his breath rushed out of him at the heat, Rick’s face in front of him twitched and his lips slightly fell open. The heat crept even lower and took residence in the bottom of his stomach. He became conscious of his heavy heartbeat and thought he felt a stirring in his boxers.

Morty couldn’t bare the heat anymore and turned his head away from Rick. He tried to focus on the grey ceiling in front of him, but was hyper aware of Rick’s breath on the side of his face and the weight of his arm on him. His skin felt practically alive and alien where Rick was touching him and, despite Morty’s best attempt to focus on the ceiling, his gut twisted and he thanked all deities to have ever existed that Rick was soundly asleep right then.

Despite the flush and the heat, Morty couldn’t deny that with Rick right by his side he felt more comfortable than any of the times he fell asleep by himself and a small part of him hoped this moment would freeze in time and never end. He squashed that part of him and tried to swallow around the lump in his throat. The part he squashed came back and wondered what would happen if Rick was even closer to him, his arm moved on his skin and his palm wound brush over his –

Morty screwed his eyes shut. He thought about moving away from Rick but was paralyzed by the thought of losing this warmth. It was fine, everything was fine. He was just happy for the warmth from another living body when he was cold for so long, that’s all, it had nothing to do with Rick. It was perfectly normal.

His gut continued its rolling, making him swallow reflexively, but the lump in his throat was firmly lodged and felt suspiciously like self-loathing. 

* * *

Morty blinked once again to awareness. Bright morning light streamed through the window. He wondered for a second where Rick was when he heard the flush of the toilet and the rumbling of pipes and in a second Rick emerged from the bathroom. His face still had deep ridges but the bags under his eyes were significantly better and he looked better rested than all the days before.

The covers rustled and Rick turned to look at him. When Rick’s eyes met his, Morty could swear a slight smile grazed at Rick’s lips.

“Sleep well, p-princess?” Rick’s lips stretched to a smirk and he moved to stand beside him.

When Morty moved to sit up, his bad leg did nothing but send a slight spike, as if only to remind him it was there. His face must have shown his surprise at the absence of pain, because Rick’s smirk stretched a bit wider.

“Pretty c-cool, yeah?” Rick said.

“My l-leg, Rick. My leg doesn’t hurt anymore!”

“That’s alien tech for you, n-nothing like that pussy Earth shit. Of course a few pills were my own, but this alien shit is still better than what you would find on Earth.”

Rick sat down on the bed. Morty’s stomach rumbled and Rick fished out a candy bar from one of the bags that were lying on the floor next to him. He threw it at him and Morty fumbled to catch it. His whole body moved with his slow reflexes and the bar hit him square in the chest. He could only stare dumbly at Rick as his body was pain free.

“I think we-we can remove the bandage now.”

Despite being pain-free, Morty froze at the thought at seeing the wound again. Last time his leg looked so… horrible. Rick rolled his eyes and grabbed at the duvet, throwing it away from his body. Cold met his skin, but his cheeks still flushed as his naked skin met Rick’s eyes. He tried to grab at the duvet to cover his skin but froze when Rick’s palms met his skin where the bandages began on his knee.

He could only watch wide-eyed as Rick’s deft fingers undid the knot and started unwrapping the bandage. Every second felt like eternity and Morty couldn’t decide if he wanted to quickly get it over with or be stuck in a never-ending loop of the first strip of bandage falling away, to reveal only the skin above the injury. Never mind his wants or fears, time went on without his express permission and Rick ended the unwrapping, only to reveal slightly paler but perfectly nice skin. His breath rushed out of him and he couldn’t help but beam at Rick.

Rick stood up, threw the balled up bandage to a corner and, grabbing clothing from the floor, threw it at Morty.

“G-Get dressed, Morty, and eat the damn candy.” He disappeared to the bathroom again.

When Motry looked at the clothing lying in his lap and noticed it looked new and, most importantly, neither stained with blood nor cut up. He shook himself from his stupor, got dressed all the time still wondering at the fact that he could freely – and pain free! – move his leg. When he was done he sat cross-legged on the bed and munched on the candy bar, grateful to feel hunger again after feeling like shit for so long. In fact, he felt better than even before he left Earth.

He was still munching on the candy bar when a heavy thud came from the door and he almost choked on his food in surprise. Rick immediately jumped from the bathroom and looked at the door suspiciously. A moment of silence then another thud and Morty’s hunger fled with it.

“Shit–“

Rick’s words were cut short as the door flew open and three burly aliens stood blocking the exit. Rick dashed to the side and stuck himself to the bathroom corner and Morty rolled to the floor behind the bed, in time to notice a bright light flying above his head. He cast his eyes around the room for the plasma gun he knew Rick still had and started to feel panic creeping up as he found nothing but dust and crumbs, feeling like cornered prey. His eyes caught on the handle of something – a gun – under the bed and on the other side.

He heard Rick swearing from the bathroom and dashed under the bed, momentarily thankful for his lithe body as he narrowly fit in the small space and grabbed the gun, once again emerging on the safe side of the bed. He clutched at the gun and his eyes met with Rick’s for just a second. Rick nodded almost unnoticeably then turned to look at the aliens again from his corner.

“Stop shooting, motherfuckers, or I’ll blow up the whole hotel!” Rick yelled over the sound of plasma shots.

Morty’s mind for a second wondered at the bomb he was first hearing of when he realized Rick was buying them time. And distracting them. He fixed his hold on the gun and tried to steady his breathing.

The plasma shots stopped. “That’s right, dickheads. I blow this bad girl up and even your m-mother won’t be able to discern your ugly mug from the mess.”

Morty peeked from behind the bed. Gurgles from the aliens in a language Morty couldn’t understand and he barely registered them tensing up in preparation to attack when Morty pressed the trigger and one of their heads burst open in a mess of violet and bone. He tried to shoot another one, but the plasma shot innocently met the wall as one of the remaining aliens dashed into the room, advancing in his direction, and the other one hid behind the exit’s wall. He kept shooting as he dashed further into the room to crouch behind the armchair, but didn’t manage to graze either of them.

_Rick will kill me for the shit aim._ He barely managed the fleeting thought before he was once again aiming at one of the aliens, only to see him already prepared to shoot at him. Rick dashed from the bathroom he was hiding in and kicked the alien in the back, making him fall forward and his shot to go wide. His gun fell out of his grasp and Rick grabbed it just as the alien was reaching for it. A plasma shot flew by where just a moment ago Rick’s head was and Morty twisted to look at the other alien.

He was huddled behind the wall to the room, still blocking the exit. He heard a shot next to him, but didn’t have time to check on Rick as he aimed his own plasma gun at the alien. The third alien ducked and Morty missed.

He saw Rick coming to him and Morty dashed to the window and twisted the handles with his sweaty hands to open it. Rick shot again, but no sound followed and Morty saw out of the corner of his eye as Rick ducked to miss his.

“Let’s go!” he shouted at Rick, his scream making his throat twinge. He was halfway out of the window when he noticed Rick’s hesitation and his eyes flying to the lying coat on the armchair.

Morty tumbled out of the window back into the room and grabbed at Rick just in time to make him stumble enough to miss the shot that would have pierced his head clean, instead leaving his hair singed. Rick grabbed the coat and ran towards the open window. Morty was just landing on gravel on the other side of the building when Rick’s feet landed next to him. He grabbed at Rick and dragged him forwards, letting go once Rick was sprinting next to him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... Better late then never? My pre-written chapters have ended and I was kinda stuck, so this chapter was pushed later and later. Next chapter should be next week. Hope you enjoy!  
> Criticism and comments are my one true love ^.^
> 
> This chapter contains explicit content.

They eventually stopped at an underground parking lot. Both of them were out of breath and Morty had to lean against a support beam to rest before his lungs failed him. Rick collapsed next to him, his head hanging down and the coat he had so stupidly grabbed clutched between his bent legs. After a moment of just breathing, Rick finally sighed and lifted his head. Morty watched as he looked around him.

Since they were underground, the big space was lit by artificial lightning, but was quite dim, leaving an impression of being late at night. Morty didn’t know the hour, but when they dashed away from the room, it was bright outside. He would have maybe felt displaced, but after sleeping so much his inner clock was broken enough that to Morty it didn’t matter what time it was.

All around them were moderately sized ships, similar to Rick’s car-ship. They were for everyday use, some able to accommodate only a few people while others looked more business-oriented. Most of the ships didn’t look particularly expensive.

Rick stood up from where he was sitting, his breathing calmer now. “C-Come on, Morty, I need to hotwire one.”

Morty trailed after Rick as the latter man cast his gaze around the various ships, probably trying to pick one. Morty’s gaze fell on the bunched up coat Rick was still clinging to and felt the beginnings of anger rustling inside of him. He felt his lips tighten, as if to seal all the things he wanted to say to the man in front of him, since Morty partly knew that should he start saying something, the dam would break and he would be screaming at Rick in no time. Rick, obviously, would be screaming right back at him and they didn’t have time for such a thing.

Rick stopped and Morty almost bumped into him before coming to stand next to him and following his gaze.

In front of them was the most pathetic looking ship Morty has ever seen. Better looking ships lined the row on each side of it.

He was opening his mouth to scratchily ask Rick if they really needed to pick this ship even if it reminded Rick of his scrappily put-together dump, before the man cut him off, noticing his dubious expression.

“The worst looking, the b-better, Morty. No-one will be looking for it. At least not soon,” Rick said.

Morty wanted to voice his doubt about the ship even starting, never mind leaving the atmosphere, before clamping down on the words, still fearing the anger simmering in him would burst open.

Rick walked to the side of his chosen ship. It was quite small and Morty could see some parts of it were being held up by duck-tape of all things, while others were horribly rusting and crumbling. It was dirty and shabby and the metal exterior looked more yellow-stained than shiny.

Rick forcibly yanked at the door’s handle, almost stumbling back when it opened with just a sad-sounding squeal. He climbed inside behind the wheel and Morty walked around to the other side, his movements purposely calm, and opened the door – it needed a bit of a tug – and cast only a single glance at the cracked brown leather of the seat before he sat down. Did the owner forget to lock the ship or were the locks just that rusted that with a tug they would open?

“You could keep watch, you know,” Rick’s sarcastic voice floated up from where he was buried under the wheel, followed by sparks of electricity as he connected wires together.

_And maybe you could be less of an asshole._ The reply floated up to Morty’s mind and he resolutely looked out of the side window, not wanting to start a fight. Just yet.

A few seconds of silence later the ship grumbled to life, its engine screeching like hell-demons to life and Morty winced at the sound. He saw Rick’s face twist into a grimace as well before firmly fixing his gaze outside. The ship rumbled for a few moments more and then started trembling as it left its parking space, Rick guiding it outside the parking lot. Once they were outside, the trembling intensified and Morty felt like the metal ground under his feet would crumble away, but they were in the air and flying up before he could wonder at his chances of survival in this dying death-trap.

* * *

They shot out of the planet they had crashed in. The ship Rick had stolen was no better than a trashcan with wings. It was small, with only two front seats and a bit of space behind them. The leather of the seats was fractured and white puffs of cotton tried to escape in places. The ground was sticky and the dash was bent in some places. All of the windows were dirty and the whole things smelled like cheap cigarette smoke.

The atmosphere in the ship was no better. The air was thick and suffocating and Morty didn’t know if the lack of air or his anger burning his veins would do him in quicker. Either way, neither helped him calm his breathing. In his mind’s eye flashed the memory of Rick missing the shot to his head by millimetres, saved by Morty tugging him out of the way. He side-eyed the blasted coat still stuck between Rick’s legs.

“Wh-why are they st-still following us, Rick?” Morty could hear anger leaking into his voice and tried to keep his expression neutral.

Rick turned to face him, a shit-eating grin stretching his cheeks. He reached for the coat and drew out a suspiciously violet-looking bottle from the clutches of the fabric. Morty absently noticed the red seeping into his view but the simmering anger burst forward and his body leapt faster than his mind could process. He jumped at Rick, sprawled into his lap.

“Fuck!” Rick exclaimed as Morty’s nails clawed at the man’s chest and his hand grabbed into the bottle, twisting it from his hold. He jumped back into his own seat, heaving, glaring at Rick.

“Y-You little shit!” Rick hissed, one hand rubbing at his chest and the other still holding the wheel. His eyes were narrowed stakes of ice.

“You motherfucker!” Morty shouted, his voice breaking in the middle from the sheer power of his emotions. He felt his arms trembling, his whole body vibrating like it couldn’t decide what to do with the fire in his veins. His fingers became bleached-white from clenching the bottle. “You fucking motherfucker! Y-you managed t-to hold into t-the fucking b-b-bottle, that l-landed with m-my fucking leg broken-“

“-singed-“

“-and your head practically split open! Y-you know what?” He twisted the cap off, threw it against Rick. It missed.

He fastened his lips to the opening, inverted the whole thing and took deep gulps, the violet liquid burning his throat, bitter. It burned, burned – he started coughing, tears threatening to start leaking from his eyes. He took a deep breath, his throat sore and burning, resolutely ignored the tickling which tried to prompt him to start coughing till he vomited out his own lungs, and drank again, this time the liquid sliding down his throat more easily. Bubbles floated up inside the bottle. His whole body was starting to tingle.

Hands snatched the bottle away from his mouth, spilling a bit on his chin.

“Fucker!” he exclaimed, narrowing his eyes at his grandpa, who was busy gulping down the vodka himself. He launched himself at Rick again, settling across his legs, hands scrambling at the bottle. If Rick wanted the booze so much, he could scrap it from the ground when Morty would eventually vomit it out.

With a hard tug he pulled the bottle away from Rick, spilling a good portion of it on the older man’s chin and neck, where it trailed down to soak into his shirt, and glued it to his own lips, letting the bitter alcohol fill his mouth. Heat didn’t just whisper against him anymore, it ignited deep in his body and seemed to mix with his rage into one messed-up cocktail of body-trembles and world-swaying.

“Motherfucker th-think he can steal g-grandpa’s vodka?” Rick seethed, hands grasping at Morty’s sides, his t-shirt, the sound of stitches tearing following. The drink went down the wrong pipe from the jostling and he coughed, momentarily loosening his hold on the bottle. It was all Rick needed to snatch it back.

“Amateur,” his grandpa smirked and pulled deep gulps of the alcohol.

Morty dug his elbow into the other man’s side. Rick spluttered, wheezed. He tugged at the bottle – more than two thirds of it was already gone – and the world was already wobbling around him intensely. The bottle slipped from his fingers, spilled against Rick’s chest, leaving the shirt soaking wet and sticky. He shook his head – not a good idea, Morty absently noted – and ignored the throb in his stomach, snatched the bottle up from where it landed in their laps and lifted it practically bottoms up. The last few mouthfuls of the liquid slid down his throat.

Rick lurched under him forward and the empty bottled slipped from his slippery fingers and landed back in their laps. When Morty lifted his cotton-stuffed head, he caught the last moments of Rick wresting from his shirt. It fell somewhere on the ground, but Morty’s eyes were still stuck on the suddenly vast expanse of naked skin, which glittered in places from either sweat or alcohol, maybe both.

Rick snatched the empty bottle away, looked at it with disgust and threw it over his head. It landed with a crash somewhere in the ship.

“That w-was one of the best bottles of alcohol you could find in all – in all of the universe, Morty, and you chugged it-it in a few seconds like a sloshed-ass sorority gi-“

Morty growled and swung his elbow again, making Rick stop mid-word. Rick caught it, twisted it behind his back. He tried to punch him with the other hand – it joined the one behind his back. Rick smirked and Morty lost the last of his control somewhere between being mind-numbingly drunk and Rick’s skin filling all of his view. 

“Fuck!” Rick’s hand flew to his bitten collarbone. Morty tried to bite his shoulder next, but Rick’s hand flew to his mouth. Morty bit at his fingers, the bitter liquid that was sticking to the flesh coating his tongue. He sucked them deeper into his mouth. God, he was burning up from the inside out and mind-consuming arousal was pooling in his stomach. The world around him was floating, Rick’s groan vibrating around him. His ears were filled with Rick’s pants, his taste on his tongue was of Rick and the liquid wonder, his skin was flushed with Rick skin’s heat where he was still splayed on his lap and when he lifted his eyes to Rick’s face his whole world stuttered for a second on blue eyes and then began to tick again with Rick in the center of the universe and only Rick in Morty’s mind.

Rick’s other hand let go of his arms and came to clutch at his hair. Morty let go of the fingers, slick spit coating them and dragging against his lips, and crashed his lips against his grandpa’s, the hard tug in his scalp directly connected to his dick. He ground his arousal against Rick’s crotch, felt him just as hard. He groaned into his grandpa’s mouth.

“You little fucker,” Rick’s breath whispered against his lips and Morty panted. He leaned down further, licking at the man’s neck, at his collarbone, chest, chasing the bitter sticky taste of the drink. With every wonder-filled lick he could feel his rational thoughts floating away, bodily sensations taking its place. He had never before felt so good, so hard and he chased the heady feeling with his tongue.

“Slut,” Rick groaned, the hand clutching his hair flexing and sending more tingles down Morty’s body, “Y-you like licking at grandpa’s chest, licking up s-spilt vodka, M-Morty? Like a-a fucking cheap ass slut. You-you would sell yourself t-to your grandpa for a-another drop of that liquid, w-w-wouldn’t y-y-you?”

The words resonated in his ears, filling him up and he couldn’t help but groan against the man’s stomach. He bit it, though, because he could, and Rick buckled under him. Rough hands grabbed at his shoulders and pulled him up, lips and teeth seeking out his. Pain flared in his bottom lip, iron blossomed against his tongue, Rick brushing against it, the taste of vodka mixing in with spit and blood and Rick.

“F-Fuck, Rick,” he breathed out against the man’s lips, panting into his mouth and inhaling the same air back in. He clutched at Rick’s bare shoulders, knuckles white. Would he leave bruises in his wake? Rick’s hands slithered under his t-shirt and his stomach quivered with every brush of skin against skin.

“S-say you want, ah, want this,” Rick breathed into his mouth, trailed kisses to his neck, slick, wet, tongue licking at his heated skin, making threads of electricity rush under skin and his back arch. Rick bit him, arousal like a punch in his groin following. Morty threw his head back, his dick throbbed, he moaned.

“S-Say you want it, Morty!” Rick hissed, small bites littering all over his neck.

“I-I want it, R-Rick!” he cried out, his too high voice resonating in the ship. Too high, too begging-like. He growled and pushed against his grandpa’s chest, making him lean against the seat again. He twisted down to bite at Rick’s lips, growled, “Just l-like you, y-you fucking pervert.”

Hands clutched painfully at his sides, at his stomach, at his ribs, finally grasping his t-shirt and tugging it upwards. Morty bit at Rick’s lips – they were going to be real puffy and red tomorrow – and leaned back, letting Rick pull the t-shirt fully off. Rick threw it to the side, somewhere, and Morty leaned back to resume his abuse. When hot bare skin met his, a moan was ripped through his throat, reminding him of the burn there. His legs were starting to become sore, but the pain-pleasure only settled deeper into his flesh. God, how he wanted. Wanted to bite, and burn, and scratch, and fuck. Rick buckled under him again, seemingly just as lost to the sensations as he was.

His grandpa’s bulge rubbed against his own and he pulled away to gulp down air, letting it burn on its way down, just like the drink had. He scratched against Rick’s chest, eyes following the deep red ridges he left. He wanted more, more red lines down his chest, marks and punishment and mirror images of the need twisting his insides. Rick’s cheeks reddened along with his chest, his eyes glassy, but unrepentantly glued to his face.

“S-shit…” Rick groaned, his voice a harsh rasp. Morty ground his erection down against his grandpa’s, watched as Rick’s eyelashes fluttered. Morty’s voice was becoming a steady stream of moans and grunts. He rubbed against Rick again and again, picking up a rhythm. Rick’s hands fell down to clutch at his hips, painfully, leaving red marks, and Morty closed his eyes.

“R-Rick…” he was surely leaking by now, every little brush making him jolt. The world was moving around him and with his eyes closed, he was moving with it, even though all he did was rub up and down, up and down, probably. He ignored the unsteady world behind his black eyelids.

The sound of a zipper being pulled down joined their panting and Morty’s heart leapt, almost succeeding in escaping through his burning throat. He choked on spit and Rick bit at his lips, his tongue demanding entrance, claiming, invading, burning all his resistances and slaughtering everything else in its path. He ground down against Rick, hard, almost painfully – he needed more. His eyes flew open, his hands scratched down, down the lithe chest, coating his fingers in something wet. He pulled away from the kiss and chased the scratches with his tongue, with his lips, lapping the blood up. Rick hissed above him, his hands trembled against Morty’s stomach before unhooking the button on his jeans. Morty grabbed at Rick’s pants and tried to do the same, but his hands were trembling too much, the button slipping past his sticky fingers.

Another set of hands joined his and finally unfastened the offensive piece of clothing. Morty bit the fingers and hands yanked at his hair, sweet pain radiating through his whole body.

“F-Fucking e-eager, Morty?” Rick hissed above him and Morty crashed against his mouth.

“L-l-look wh-who’s fu-fucking talking.”

Rick’s chuckle vibrated against his cheek. Deft fingers plunged into his pants, brushing against his straining erection and stars almost exploded behind Morty’s eyes. Almost. He was not going to be outdone by the old shit. He pulled away from Rick’s hot skin, cool air brushed against his chest. He pulled out his grandpa’s hard-on from his pants, fingers trembling against the flesh, and Rick groaned, his eyelashes fluttering before ice blue eyes once more bore into his.

Rick’s face was flushed, his mouth hanging open, pants rushing through. His bottom lip was bleeding slightly, red and puffy. His neck was glistering with spit, his chest heaving, and red harsh lines popped against his pale skin. Trails of black-grey hair led to unfastened pants. Morty’s hands were holding his dick, looking almost sheet-white against the ripe-looking skin. Morty moved his hands down, slowly, saw as the skin near the slit parted and a drop of pre-cum leaked through. Rick groaned and Morty moved his hands up, just as slowly, watching as the drop hid inside, his gaze stuck to the clear liquid. It was mesmerizing and he pulled his hands down again.

Rick grabbed into his wrists, “G-god, Morty, you’re killing me.”

He pushed his groin against Morty’s, his erection rubbing against his own.

“F-fuck!” Morty hissed, pleasure running from his dick through the rest of his body. Rick spat into his hand and grabbed both of their members and pulsing heat shot through him, making his heart stutter in its wild beat. Morty clamped his teeth down on Rick’s neck, muffling his moan with flesh, and Rick groaned above him. His wandering hands came to clutch at Rick’s sides.

Rick stroked them both and the heat-pleasure climbed higher, higher, just a bit more. Rick’s other hand grabbed at his chin and pulled him up from his neck, pulling him harshly against his lips. A tongue swept against his bottom lip and Morty’s dick pulsed once, twice. Breath rushed through his lips into Rick’s mouth.

White come coated Rick’s fingers, Morty’s chest, trickled down to taint his and Rick’s pants. Rick groaned against Morty, tugging at both of their dicks, Morty’s still hard but painfully sensitive, yet his stomach jumped and his spent dick twitched. A few tugs later Rick’s hand stilled, his muscles tensed up. Morty licked into his mouth and Rick’s come mixed with the rest of the mess.

Morty slumped against Rick’s chest, his pants directed into the man’s neck. Rick was fairing no better, if the heavy breathing and moving chest was any indication. The ship was otherwise silent. Morty closed his eyes, willed the world around him to stop swaying. His head throbbed, but in the emptiness of where his arousal was came semi-rational thought. He blinked open and accusing red lines met his eyes. God, he had come on his grandpa’s chest. He has kissed him, panted against him, rutted like a slut. He noticed white drops on the man’s stomach and his dick twitched tiredly.

The body under his was as rigid as his own and Morty dreaded to look up. But his eyes and by extension his head was pulled up as if by invisible strings and agonizing seconds later ice-cold blue eyes met his. Rick’s pupils were still dilated, but where there was once heat and lust and desire there was only coldness.

Nausea licked at his stomach, joining the tumbling in his stomach. He leaned away from Rick, made his body twist and practically fall into the neighboring seat. He was detached. The swaying of the world around him, his heart beating in his chest, the rumbling of the ship’s engine, the burn in his legs from the demanding position they were forced into just moments ago – all of it one part of his brain noted, but didn’t translate into anything more. He snatched up his t-shirt from the ground right next to him, pulled it on and ignored Rick right next to him.

He saw from the corner of his eye as Rick zipped up, the sound of the zipper unnaturally loud in the otherwise silent ship, wiped his stomach with his discarded shirt and threw it to the back. He clutched the wheel, his face hard and cold, so different from his flushed with need one. Only his slightly red cheeks and red lines against his chest betrayed anything had happened.

Morty looked through the window at the consuming darkness beyond. He leaned his heated forehead against the glass, let the cool sooth his face. He gulped down non-existent saliva, which didn’t help to alleviate his parched throat, and pulled his legs towards himself, wrapping them up with his arms.

_God, what had he done?_


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> University has started so I don't know how much free time I'll have, but I'll try to update in a shorter amount of time than it took for this chapter. Hope you like it.

The ship’s door opened with a sad croak and Morty stumbled out on legs that felt like jelly. It was dark in the garage and night had come when they landed down.

His headache had returned with a vengeance and Morty imagined a monkey in his skull practicing his drumming. The blood roared in his ears despite the pain, but it was all out there, somewhere. Morty walked out of the garage without looking at Rick. The whole house was clouded in shadows. He was disconnected, he was part of some other world and moved his legs forward with a mechanical feel like he was playing a bad VR game.

He fucked up. Morty could note that with a weird kind of calm, as if jotting down facts. Bad headache – check, wonky legs – check, his throat was parched – check, he fucked up with his grandpa beyond all repair – check. But despite every other detail, this one came back again and again. He tried to focus on walking forward and the thought returned, he tried to see clearly past his drunken haze and he remembered the way Rick looked with flushed cheeks, he focused on twisting the door handle to the kitchen as quietly as possible and his inner voice chanted fucked up, fucked up, fucked up.

Morty entered the kitchen intent on grabbing a glass of water and felt a lump growing in his stomach the more his thoughts circled back to Rick. He was stuck and distantly noted his picking-up breath. His hands shook as they grabbed a glass and the tap slipped from his fingers multiple times before he finally unscrewed the cold water and the headache intensified as the beat of his heart picked up. He could feel himself trembling, from the glass in his hand, to his lips as he tried to drink, to his heart as he tried not to choke.

Out of a corner of his eyes he glimpsed Beth. One arm leaning on the counter, the other reaching for the wine bottle in the cabinet, she was almost invisible in the dark kitchen and Morty choked on his drink.

Oh god, he felt his cheeks start flaming. What if she sees what he did, what if he smells like-like… _sex_ and _sin_ and _Rick_ \- he was waiting with his heart hammering and his eyes screwed shut. Of course she’ll notice. In a moment she will turn to him with a standard greeting and then her eyes will focus and she’ll _know_. He was done for, he was going to get called a freak, slapped and thrown out with only the clothes on his back. He distantly heard a clank as his glass slipped from his slack hands into the sink, fortunately, not breaking. He waited, one beat, two… But she didn’t react and Morty with a shallow breath turned to her.

Beth was still standing as she stood, perpetually reaching for her wine. It took agonizingly long as Morty stared at her for the fact that she was frozen just like Jerry to penetrate his skull and felt more stupid than ever.

He couldn’t deal with this.

With barely a glance to the rest of the room, he stumbled his way forward to the hallway, then up the stairs, then to his room. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Summer in the bathroom, the door wide open, as she stood with a towel wrapped around her and wet hair hanging down her face. She didn’t so much as twitch and Morty… Morty couldn’t deal with it. With an effort he forced himself not to think too deeply of anything except getting to his room. Step by wavering step and he was inside. With the door tightly shut, the chair jammed into the handle, he fell into bed like a puppet whose strings were cut. He toed his sneakers off and the rest of his energy faded away. He slipped into unconsciousness not even bothering to cover himself.

* * *

Morty blinked his eyes open. It was just as dark as when he fell asleep and he tiredly rubbed at his eyes. With aching muscles he clumsily turned to sit and, as the covers fell away, goosebumps ran down his naked shoulders and arms where skin met cold air. He was tired. Maybe he could nap for a few more hours, it certainly felt as if—

A movement near his desk caught his attention and he twisted to look down his room. A girl with blond hair and pink eyes, in a casual t-shirt and a short skirt, leaned sensually in his desk chair, slowly twirling back and forth. Arms hanging down the chair’s armrests, long and smooth legs crossed over one another and her butt almost slipping down the chair as she relaxed even further made his fast heartbeat pick even more speed. She looked slightly familiar but all efforts at remembering left Morty as elusive smoke as her legs uncrossed, a white glimpse of her panties flashing unnaturally bright in the room, then crossed again in reverse.

“ _Morty…_ ” her voice was like liquid honey down his back or maybe like Rick’s –

“Morty, I can’t even express how happy I am right now. _Oh,_ my heart is just racing when I look at you.”

He gulped down non-existent saliva and stood up, slowly stumbling towards her. With every step closer to her, her eyes glittered like glass and her lips stretched from a teasing smirk to full-body happiness. When he stumbled upon her lap, she glowed brighter than the sun and he felt unable to look away from her pink eyes. His body felt flushed and overheated but he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else, doing anything else but just looking at her.

When she leaned forward, he felt as if his heart would stop, and when her lips met his, maybe it had stopped, maybe he had died and this dark room and pillow-soft girl under him was his heaven. The kiss was slow, just a touch of lips to lips, but heat was simmering in him and urged him to speed up. Her lips under his tongue were sweet and when she shyly swiped her own tongue against his, everything else fell away, labeled as beneath unimportant.

The kiss turned into heat and kitten-kisses morphed into toe-curling pleasure. Nips with teeth left his lips stinging, the body beneath his own turned rigid with passion and tension. She shifted and he fell deeper into her lap. The scent of smoke and alcohol and chemicals enveloped him like a web. Stubble rubbed against his cheeks, a low groan vibrated under him and a moan was thorned out of his throat, against his will. Muscles he was desperately clutching at hardened, a distinct kind of hardness was digging into his tight and when he leaned back, ice-blue eyes bore into his. _Rick—_

Hands came to clutch at his hips and move him more firmly into his lap. They moved him shallowly back and forth and Rick threw back his head with a deep groan. _Rick –_

“You’re so pathetic, Morty. Oh, _fuck…”_ The body under his buckled up, ice ran down his veins, “Morty, ah, sad little Morty, a pervert, a _freak,_ ” Rick’s erection rubbed against his own and shot heat straight to his twisting stomach, “Morty, loved by no-one, needed, _ah_ , by no-one, and how could they like someone like _you?”_

Morty’s body froze, but Rick didn’t seem to mind. He was driven harshly into his lap, over and over again with a bruising kind of speed and harshness that left Rick breathless. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t get enough oxygen into his starved lungs, he couldn’t _breathe_ —

Rick surged up and sharp teeth claimed his lips again, stealing Morty’s last breath away, deep groans filled the space around them, chaining him to Rick’s body, harsh hands and sharp nails dug into his ice-cold and rigid body, and Morty felt as darkness closed around him, eating into him, driving all thought except last out of his mind. He couldn’t _breathe._

* * *

Morty woke up with a gasp. Bright sunlight stabbed into his sensitive eyes and his heart was trying to beat fast enough to stop. His head was mercilessly pounding behind his eyes, his whole body ached and his stomach was trying to twist itself into knots.

He curled around himself, hands clinging into his shirt and jean-clad legs moving as close to his body as he could manage. He was trembling hard enough for his teeth to painfully chatter. He was nauseas and he was cold, but he couldn’t find the energy to neither cover himself up nor sit up and walk to the bathroom. He lied there and tried to think of nothing.

* * *

Morty crunched at cardboard-like cereal. He was curled on the sofa, watching TV with a thought-less mind. He was swaddled in his warmest sweater and he still felt cold to his core. The sugar-full food he was eating was tasteless and the texture grossly mushy, but he knew he had to eat something. With Beth still standing in the kitchen, he wasn’t inclined to cook anything either. He couldn’t bare looking at her.

He still had a wicked headache that left him feeling even more detached from the world around him. He had lied in bed trembling for a few hours before stumbling to the bathroom, only due to his protesting bladder, in last night’s clothes plus a sweater. Summer had still stood there as she had the night before, but Morty didn’t even have the energy to muster embarrassment and he had to pee, so he did, trying to forget her existence. He couldn’t bring himself to turn off the light in the bathroom when he exited, though.

Like it was an ordinary day, he made himself cereal for breakfast with slightly trembling hands, then sat down at the empty dining table. It felt like the walls were closing in around him so he said ‘fuck it’ and carried his food to the couch. At least the TV added some liveliness to the oppressive silence around him. He hadn’t seen Rick since he exited the stolen ship.

A woman’s voice caught his attention and he focused his bleary eyes more firmly on the TV. A young news lady stood in front of a blue background. Morty could note that she was stunning, with glossy black hair and a curvy figure, her delicate fingers cradling a stack of papers, but his body couldn’t muster anything else but another tremble from the cold.

“ – another person was found immobile in their home. This has become a global phenomenon that has people all over the world concerned for the safety and wellbeing of their friends, family and themselves.” She was smiling and her voice was cheerful, as if she wasn’t talking about a massive problem. “The brightest minds of our world are working on the occurrences, but no firm answer is in sight. Multiple theories –“

Morty’s ears started ringing and he couldn’t focus on her voice anymore, no matter how happy she sounded. His eyes had blurred and she became a red blob against the blue background. He left his half-full bowl of cereal on the ground next to the couch, losing the little appetite he had. His thoughts flashed to his dad, to mom and Summer. Frozen, immobile – was that what she called it – and he felt a lump forming and settling in his stomach. How many people were like them? Were they going to get better? Was there a cure – there wasn’t, they didn’t even know why it was happening.

Rick knew, had shared a bit with Morty when… when everything was still better and not tainted by Morty’s sickness.

Morty felt a hysterical laugh building in his throat. Rick always knew what was happening and why and if he didn’t, he would find out. And he probably knew how to stop it too, but Morty had not seen hair or hide of him in the house the entire time they were back home. He was probably sick to his stomach by now, disgusted to have a grandkid like himself. Probably skipped to the next dimension, picked a new, normal Morty for himself. Left them all here to rot on this rock floating in space. Morty couldn’t blame him though, no, all he could blame was himself. A bark of a laugh left his lips and echoed around the empty house.

But Summer, Beth, even Jerry by extension… Morty didn’t know if Rick could leave them as they were again. He had, once, but then he had tried to fix it first before deciding it was a lost cause. But then… he tried to fix this too, before Morty fucked up. Maybe he decided this – Morty – was a lost cause as well.

Morty shut down the TV, unable to listen to the cheerful lady on the TV. Even the all-encompassing silence was better than hearing his faults and sins made known to the whole world. With nausea licking at his insides, he curled around himself on the couch, suddenly exhausted and too weary for… for anything, really. He was cold and his head was hurting and he slipped gratefully into sleep.

* * *

When he woke, it was dark again. And silent. With a groan Morty sat up and rubbed at his cold arms. He had stopped trembling and Morty didn’t know if this was a good thing or not. He had heard that it was bad when in extreme cold, that the body didn’t have energy anymore and death was closely approaching. But it wasn’t that cold in the house, was it? It couldn’t be, but Morty was positively freezing.

He climbed to his room, all the way clinging to darkness. He didn’t feel like turning on any of the lights, liked to imagine he could hide himself in the darkness from the rest of the world and even his judging self.

The headache he had had abated a bit, but the rest of the pain spread out, making his muscles sore and his bones ache. He felt cold and ancient and lonely. All he wanted was to escape for a moment.

He fell into his bed, worming under the covers without undressing. He willed himself to sleep again - how many hours was he unconscious by now? Morty knew it wasn’t normal nor healthy but he couldn’t bring himself to care. His body wasn’t unhappy to be lying down either so he closed his eyes and waited.

He dreamt of mocking voices chanting slurs and accusations at him from every shadow. Of judging eyes and hard sneers and Rick looking at him with disgust and disappointment. And all the time he was frozen like the rest of his family was, unable to move, unable to escape, made to bear everything in silence and stillness, with not even tears allowed to wash some of the anguish away.

When he awoke to darkness and silence again, he couldn’t do it anymore. The walls, the silence, the dark – it was all closing in around him, stealing the air from around him. He stumbled out of his room, searching for anything to take his mind off of him, his faults, Rick. The hallway was just as dark and lonely and Morty realized he didn’t know where to go, what to do. He could think of nothing he would want to do, no-one he could talk to. He was all alone.

He walked forward. Anything would do, by this point. Anything to numb the pain, anyone willing to listen, even if they judged and laughed and mocked. Anything, please…

A single light caught his attention, like a miracle to his prayers. He stumbled to the lit bathroom, closing the door behind him. Summer was still standing in the bathroom, her hair still wet. Morty noticed a few droplets of water clinging to her naked shoulders.

He tumbled down to the floor, sitting down where he stood, and leaned back on the closed door. Everything was still for a moment.

“Summer…” His voice was a croak, breaking the silence like an unwanted intruder. But now that that one word escaped his lips, he felt a wall breaking down inside himself, emerging in rivers of tears and the return of shivering.

“Summer,” he started again, “I fucked up, Summer. God, did I fuck up… Th-this is beyond e-everything I ever did. Like, n-not even being born dumb and ugly com-compares to this. Ha! I h-had to be born a-a-a _freak_ , too.”

He closed his eyes and turned his head up to the ceiling. He licked his dried-out lips and tasted saltiness of tears on them. Only his own shallow breathing answered him. “E-Everything started out p-pretty ordinary, you know. Or well, not exactly ordinary, what with Jerry and all. Y-You know, of c-course, you know, you were there. And so was Mom. But, anyways, Rick said he would t-take care of it, like, he-he does. Then he dragged me to another ad-adventure, and Rick being Rick, shit happened and I got hurt. It-It really fucking hurt, Summer, I thought we… we were dead for a moment there. He… Rick t-took care of me and we… we s-s-slept in the same bed, and…” His throat clenched shut for a moment and he choked back the rising sobs. He felt wrecked but he couldn’t stop talking if he wanted to. The stuttering words continued to leak as his tears did and he kept his eyes tightly clamped, afraid to shatter this moment with reality. “It was amazing, Summer. We-we didn’t do anything, of course, but it was amazing just to lie in the same b-bed. The warmth, the closeness… Even th-then, even then I think I felt how much of a fuc-fucking pervert I was. I mean, who likes to sleep with their own, fuck, with their own grandpa in-in the same bed as them… And I kissed him, Summer. Not in the bed, l-later, in a ship. Fuck, I kissed him, Summer, and did… did some o-other things… It was the b-best experience of my life, ha, only-only such a freak as myself c-could think that. I fucked up, Summer, I fucked up, fuck…”

His voice trailed away and the sobs he was holding back broke out, leaving him breathless and wordless. He curled up tight, trying to stop his body from falling apart with the shivers and tears that wrecked his body, clutching tighter and tighter, his arms, his legs, nails digging into skin from a layer of cloth. “I f-fucked up, fucking f-fuck-up, but- but I st-still m-m-miss him, I miss him, I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry, sor-sorry, pl-please…”

He looked at Summer and her frozen form looked the same as it did before he entered. There was no judging in her eyes nor a sneer of disgust and Morty let himself break down in front of her.

A few hours had passed before Morty could take a breath without feeling like he was drowning in a vast void of pain. He was no colder sitting on the bathroom floor that he was anywhere else in the house, but the hard floor wasn’t kind to his body. It ached even more than it did before. He felt weary and empty, but it was better than the void of nothingness of before.

Yes, he was still a freak, a pervert, a fuck-up, but at least Morty could start thinking about something else besides his faults. He didn’t know what to do, felt hopelessly lost in the cluster-fuck that he himself created. But the bathroom became a sanctuary for a moment and he decided that sleeping on the floor was preferably to walking out and facing the rest of the world.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey-yo! Please leave a comment, I'm always open to criticism so I can improve. Even though nothing much is happening in this chapter >.>  
> The pace should pick up in the next one!~~

Morty was sitting on the couch, munching on tasteless cereal and watching TV with a slight ringing in his ears. It was practically a copy paste of last morning, from the same clothes he was wearing down to the cold in his body, but somewhat, Morty felt as if finally he could focus a bit again. Not much, he still didn’t even want to think about Beth in the kitchen or Jerry somewhere in the house, but he could muster enough energy to ignore the fuzziness in his head.

He felt awful, with a headache and grinding bones and a guilty conscience, but at the same time lighter, not like he was being crushed under the weight of being just himself.

“Last night there was a major spike in the phenomenon cases,” the same news lady’s voice as yesterday pierced his thoughts and Morty focused on her cheerful face. The smile looked forced. Was she finally feeling the dread of the whole disaster or was he too tired and out of it to notice yesterday?

“Governments around the world are urging people to remain calm. Experts would like to assert the importance of not going anywhere alone and to have at least one additional person besides themselves at all times, especially during dangerous activities, such as driving or injury-prone work. All essential services are working extended hours and –“

Dread churned in his stomach, mixing with the already there cereal to a cocktail of nausea. His poor and overworked heart picked up its pace. More people? What did that mean? How many… What if he froze? His mind flashed to an image of Rick, still and unable to move or react. What if Rick did? Then… Then they all would be doomed.

Morty needed to find Rick.

As if answering his thoughts, Morty heard a crash from further down the house. He jumped to his feet and rushed to the kitchen, dizzy from the sudden activity but resolute to not miss his grandpa. When he finally noticed Rick, he froze in his spot.

Rick was leaning into the sink, his left hand thrust under water from the tap. Pink water flowed down the drain. When Rick heard him approaching, he turned and Morty finally got a look at his face after who knows how many days wandering around mindlessly or lost to sleep.

He looked haggard. His whole complexion was washed-out pale and deep dark bags underlined his eyes. Rick was hunched over, as if the weight of just existing was too much for him at that moment. His blue eyes were slightly glassy but still firmly fixated on him. The only sound that could be heard was from water continuing to rush down the drain.

Morty felt unable to move. Was he frozen like the rest of them? Rick just continued in his unnatural stillness. Was Rick?

“Rick…” A voice whispered in the room, loud in the silence. Oh, wait, that was Morty’s voice. “Rick, y-you’re bleeding.”

His voice broke the moment and Rick inhaled as if life itself came back to him. He turned back to the sink.

“It’s just a cu-cut, Morty. Nothing serious,” Rick’s voice was gruff and heavy, as if not used in months.

Morty inched closer to stand next to his side. “Oh…”

Silence fell over them again. Morty firmly kept his eyes on Rick’s bleeding hand under the tap and watched as the water running down the wound slowly cleared. Tenseness from Rick bled into the space between them and Morty felt as if it would eat him from the inside out if he wasn’t drained out enough for there to be nothing to eat. The water continued running and Morty inhaled a shaky breath. He knew he couldn’t think about… that, for now. They had more pressing matters to talk about and it didn’t seem like Rick would be the one to break the stillness, so that left Morty.

“H-How,” his voice broke and he cleared his throat, “how a-are things going, R-Rick?”

“It’s b-bad, Morty,” Rick spoke quietly, “By my calculations, more than half of Earth’s population are fro-frozen popsicles waiting for whoever is doing this to eat them. S-Somehow, the rate picked up last night.”

“Y-yeah, I heard just n-now from the news.” Neither of them moved.

“We don’t have much time. I… I might be able to get s-something that’s general enough to fuck the shit th-that’s doing this up, but…” Rick fell silent and Morty waited for him to pick up. He wondered if he would, but after a few more moments, Morty could hear Rick deeply inhaling next to him. “I-I need you to come with me, ah… just another no-normal adventure, Morty, n-nothing serious, dawg.”

The forced normalcy in Rick’s tone cut the room like a bad-mannered baboon in a five-star restaurant and Morty forced himself not to cringe away. Was Rick’s pause earlier because he dreaded Morty going with him? Dreaded being in the same space as his sick grandson for any sort of extended period of time? It cut into him, these thoughts, festering upon what calmness he could force his mind into. Of course Rick did, anyone would. Morty pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind, to be analyzed later, preferably under the cover of darkness where he could afford himself to break down once more. Maybe even to try to glue the few pieces of himself he could.

He couldn’t dwell on what happened in the ship right now. Morty had to forget about it all right now and wear the mask of a well-adjusted – not sick, not _sick_ – grandson, just on another adventure with his Rick.

He forced his hands to move to shut down the tap. Every inch closer ate at his energy like he was fighting or running for his life rather than just existing. _Or kissing Ri—._ Stop it!

He shut down the tap and grabbed at Rick’s hand to examine the wound. The moment he had Rick in his hands – maybe he should find a plaster for the wound – Rick flinched full-body away from him, ripping the hand he was holding as if acid had dripped down on the skin where they touched.

The ringing in his ears intensified and Morty felt as if he was standing on the edge of a void, just one step away from falling into despair. It hurt, oh god, it felt as if his whole body was being crushed and he tried his best not to curl into himself, fall to the floor and just weep. He shoved it all away, later, later. Now he had to act normal. He turned to look at Rick and kept his gaze somewhere beyond Rick’s shoulder. If he looked into Rick’s face and saw the disgust that was in his eyes, nothing could prevent him from crumbling.

He forced cheerfulness into his voice. “S-Sure, R-Rick! I’ll help y-you with a-anything you n-need to g-get this a-alien thing you m-mentioned.” He felt like vomiting.

Rick turned to walk to the garage and Morty stumbled after him on legs that didn’t feel his. His head was buzzing and the world around him wavered in and out of focus dangerously often. A mist descended over his eyes, but then Morty took a breath and realized it was the garage that was filled with smoke, not him. Or at least, not only him.

The room stank of cigarette smoke and waves of it lazily swam along the ceiling. The floor was littered with broken glass, some oozing various liquids, and random tools. Over the stink of cigarettes, the stench of alcohol was almost undetectable. Morty stopped at the edge of the room, noting somewhere that walking further he could accidentally cut up his sock-clad feet.

“I-I did some digging around, but th-there’s not enough time to look for anything specific.” Rick fell into the chair next to his desk and grabbed the one bottle – whiskey probably – still standing upright on his desk. Several seconds passed before he removed the now empty bottle from his lips with a deep burp and carelessly threw it over his shoulder. It was a miracle it didn’t break when met with the harsh concrete and just harmlessly rolled away. “W-With the spike from last night, I-I need something s-strong and general e-enough that it wouldn’t matter wh-what kind of sh-shit we’re dealing with. Th-there’s a connection I have with a dipshit that-that should get me the parts I need.”

“O-Okay, Rick, l-let me j-just get my shoes.” Morty fled the garage before he fell down crying. His breathing was shallow all the way to his room and an annoying buzzing started under his skin. He didn’t want to be there, he didn’t want to deal with this. Morty tightened his fists, feeling the sweet sting of nails digging into the flesh of his palms. He knew meeting Rick again would be bad, but knowing Rick couldn’t stomach being near him without some liquid courage tore into him, leaving bleeding gashes never to be healed again.

He just had to act normal, that’s it. The ship… That would never ever happen again. Morty was normal, he was normal, he was normal, act… normal. Throwing himself out of the window never felt more tempting than then.

* * *

The thrumming of the engine filled the ship’s space. Morty sat in his customary seat, a temptation to open the ship’s door and killing himself with the vacuum of the universe around them licking at the corners of his mind, which he resolutely ignored. It felt weird being so close to Rick again and he felt hyper-conscious of the man next to him even though he tried his best to ignore it.

If he closed his eyes, he could imagine the Before. Just another adventure, normal yet fantastical, with Rick by his side either grinning in anticipation or smiling in self-satisfaction of getting what he wanted. Those quiet moments in the ship were one of the most precious to Morty, in comfortable silence that enveloped him like a warm blanket yet could easily be broken anytime with an easy joke from Rick or a question from Morty. Slowly, as he was lost in that imaginary moment, the lull of the ship settled his nerves. The sound of Rick shuffling in his seat broke his concentration, but the found crumb of calmness didn’t leave him.

He turned to look at Rick, a slight smile curling his lips. Now that he could finally look at Rick’s face, he noticed the man looked a bit better than in the kitchen. His eyes were still tired, but Morty saw the absence of lines he hadn’t consciously noted earlier and a small, answering curl of Rick’s lips. Minute by minute the man’s body relaxed back into his seat and hands unclenched from the wheel, one falling to lie by his side, almost brushing by him. Rick finally noticed him looking, but didn’t tense up again.

“D-Don’t worry, buddy,” Rick said, “We get this d-damn crystal I need a-and the a-alien back on Earth can say bye-bye to l-life.”

“Y-yeah, Rick…” He trailed off.

Yes, that’s what Morty needed to do. Just act normal and never ever think about the moment in the ship. They could put this behind themselves and Morty can lock that part, the sick part of himself, behind metal door and thick chains. Maybe, if he deprived that part of himself, it would disappear, but he didn’t have much faith. Nonetheless, all he had to do was act normal.

Just that one moment free of the weight of his actions made him feel better. His headache had almost disappeared and some energy had returned to his muscles, combating the receding chill.

Maybe Morty could get back that easy relationship with Rick if he showed the man he could act like a normal grandson.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. I love love LOVE comments, so please leave one. I am absolutely open to constructive criticism as it helps me learn, so don't be shy about it ^.^


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